My Choice

And what a revelation! I thought I had them buried, Those scars of devastation That in my past I carried. Some wounds don't seem to heal They bleed in hidden silence. I was alright with what I feel Until his words broke my pretense. Some poems are like music They bring back memories, Times of hurts or loss so tragic - Like replaying surgeries. But my choice is always mine, The misty Past to Pain I gave. My days to come I will define To former wounds I'm not a slave! I've been set free and I will be Filled with Hope and live content, Struggling, yes! But I am Me, I have no fear to mold my Present.