cracks in the stone that binds me

there is only a shell of me

there is only a shell of me
as she casts her gaze out onto my field
the grass is patchy, but it is green
and I am proud of all my hard work that I've done to reverse this.

of course, this can never be reversed.
nothing can.
there will still be scars on the land
and ashes in the dirt
from when I burnt myself up
and from when I lashed out at the world in my agony
but pain has made me wiser than I think I need to be
and I feel I need to use what I've gained to heal this place

I'm rebuilding my garden
little by little
because I don't feel like I can take on too much work
and that's okay
that's completely okay

but now
as she gazes out across my field
I feel ashamed

who is she?
who I want to be.
she is not real,
not yet,
but I perceive her as so.

she is many people.

she is the woman with a tongue sharp as her cheekbones,
who is ready to fight for herself, and for justice.

she is the medium with a troubled past,
who is sweet and conniving and fun all wrapped into one.

she is the man with darkness left not too far behind him,
who is learning every single day what it is to love who you are.

she is the defender of innocence,
who loves with all he's got and doesn't look back.

but I am none of these things.

my tongue may be sharp,
but I use it to hurt rather than strive for what is right.

I may have my ties to the spirit world,
but I taste of bitterness instead of honey-sweet.

I have tried time and time again to leave behind what darkens me,
but it remains persistent, and thus, I do not entirely love who I am yet.

I defend not the innocent, nor the guilty, nor the accomplice,
and I do not know how to love at all.

I am very, very broken,
and I am ready for change.

as I cast my gaze away from my field,
I feel the wolf inside me stirring for the first time in ages,
and know that a direction is coming.

from cracks in the stone that binds me,
I see that I am alone,
and I am fine with that.

I'm tired
I'm cold
I'm soft
and the world is sharp

there is only a shell of me left
from that fall that I took
from the balcony of that tower
and only a blurry silhouette of you comes near
but suddenly
I see you nice and clear.

I know who you are.

me.