To live and die

I died July 15, 2016.

At least I thought I had when I laid down and
My consciousness floated away.
And who’s to say?
Maybe I died and death spat me out
Like spoiled milk.

Scars from emotions are ghosts,
Wraiths.
No one can see them and
Only I can feel them.

Know this:
From your point of view, I tried to commit suicide
And failed.
From my perspective,
I succeeded.
When I closed my eyes,
I was certain I’d never open them again.

The old me did indeed die that day,
And having died was free to live.
It would be almost a month before I realized the
Potential for joy I was given.

My scars represent many things —
Suffering,
Bad choices,
Second chances —
But there is no shame in them.
My physical scars are here for all who care to look.
My emotional scars are here for all who care to listen.

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