sometimes,
the original plot of your life
is slowly twisted and mangled
into something entirely new;
your consciousness is a lump of clay,
molded and hardened,
only to have it shattered to pieces.
you re-soak the shattered bits,
and mold a new self.
life is full of many new beginnings,
and new senses of self and identity,
and you find yourself abandoning what you once knew.
you wipe down your splattered mess of a painting,
and are left with a new canvas,
with which you can paint whatever picture you find to be the most beautiful.
sometimes, we don't wipe the canvas,
but we merely cover it in a thin layer of white,
leaving behind the shadow of your old self,
with a mask of new identity shrouding it's cover.
sometimes, you don't have to burn your bridges.
for many, it is easier to simply move the bridge
to a new destination.
new beginnings come in many forms,
and this, i suppose,
is mine.
YOU ARE READING
everything changes (but we all stay the same)
Poetryif my life could be replayed, if i could share my struggles over the course of time, if i could create such a thing, an endless recording of my life; it would be over hours and hours of overthinking. - (trigger warning for frequent, graphic descr...
