When I think of seasons,
I don't picture colorful leaves,
Falling in delicate pattern.
I see highs and lows,
Valleys and mountains,
My sadness, my woes.
I can hear my past thoughts echo,
I can remember being happy.
But I cant feel it.
New joy is fleeting.
Falling.
Failing.
This season that I sit in,
Is frosted over, cold.

It hurts to be here.
My mind plays fortune teller.
Predicting all future tragedies.
Mourning all possible losses.
Seeing myself gone.
My little one alone.
It's as if a bully lives in my head.
Taunting my happiness.
Pushing it down,
As it desperately tries to stand.
I'm confused.
And I've been waiting.
Have I always felt this way?
Have I crossed a line?
Should I be worried?
A silent intruder.
Stealthily hiding in my head.
Waiting for its turn.
To make a move.

I am a moth.
Drawn to the flame.
Burned.
Yearning for something we used to have.
For the people we used to be.
I've been trapped for a short while.
Lost in the dark.
You turn out the light.
My eyes can't adjust.
And when you dont mean to,
You turn my wings to dust.

I found a corner in my mind,
barren, if not for a box.
I dare not visit, or stand to close,
or it may begin to talk.

What if, how come, why not,
maybe so, maybe not,
Try it on, this weighty coat,
see if you can float.

But I begin to fall,
and spiral down,
and lose all control.

So I take some tape,
and surely seal this container,
of my woes.
And hope and pray,
that one day,
I can somehow let it go.

who am I now?
This body I once recognized,
Is transformed.
Softer, fuller, different.
My mind has always been a map,
With roads that spin in circles.
But my body was no match.
Now my skin tells the story,
Of a new life formed.
Of hard months and sleepless nights.
And I dont feel better off or stronger,
Like the others proudly say.
I feel foreign and unhappy.
So I'll drive down these new roads.
Looking for familiar landmarks.
Until I can once again,
Call this body home.

I don't like sharing.
Or letting you into my space.
I have a hard time with being kind.
Judgements come naturally.
Strangers can be punchlines.
Your feelings may bother me.
I want you to like me.
But I may not like you.
My first impression of you,
Sticks even when I'm wrong.
I don't like how I am.
I've said I would change.

I haven't.
But I wish I would.

The girl I once was,
Is gone.
The body I once had,
No more.
The understanding I once had,
Has grown.
The heart I once had,
Beats louder.
The skin I once had,
Is softer.

I am brand new,
In this old body.
When a baby is born,
So is a mother.