Twenty-five was a hard year.
I lost much of myself.
I lost control, parts of my mind, body, sanity, sanctuaries.
I had so much evil come knocking at my doors,
Physically and internally.
It was the biggest burning of myself I have ever endured.
My husband and few remained by me,
Some others finally opened their eyes to truths,
While others chose to close them more and turn me into a
fictional character.
Twenty-five created roles I didn't want to play.
But I did find some parts I need for my journey in my life
along the way,
As well as discarded an enormous amount with my love by my
side.
I hate that I lost one of the biggest parts of me,
The part that has been a source of comfort since I could
first read, first hold a pen--my words.
They escaped me, but I am working all the time to regain
them. To regain me.
To, as always, rebuild from the ash.
