BECOMING

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POEM – BECOMING

Living in perfect harmony with ought to.

Grey was the colour I would do.

Deaf to the sounds that I should be hearing.

Numb to the beats I should be feeling.

Blind to the lights my eyes needed seeing.

One dimensional living.

Masquerade thinking.

Shot gun come blazing.

Many forms they came for the awakening.

One by one my layers they were pealing.

Nonsensical pain needed for the birthing.

She was ripped open for me.

Beautiful brutal blood flows so I see.

See ….I do, new eyes, new vision.

Hear ….I do, my symphony, I listen.

Feel ….I do, my body no longer in prison.

Many would say it was cruel…

But my rebirth was beautiful.

…..

~ Sarah Martin ~

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