Pink lines inhabit most of my physical body,
Some pinker than others-
Some larger than others.

But they’re all the same.
They’ve made their mark on me-
Literally and mentally.

Once upon a time,
They made me feel good,
In control.

I look at them,
And I see where I’ve been,
And who I was.

I’m not who that girl was,
The one who would beg for God to take her early,
To rid of her misery.

No, she’s gone.
Just like a passing phase,
Because that’s all we are- right?

Passing phases,
We are in control of who we are,
And I forgot that- I slipped a bit.

But, finally gaining consciousness
Of the fact that we are in control of our destiny,
We make that mark.

I have made that mark,
Many marks actually-
Mostly physical.

I used to look at them and be in awe,
Such disappointment-
I didn’t want to believe it.

However, I do now.
This is my beautiful structure.
This is my home.
No longer will I try to bring it to the ground.
She’s here to stay,
We’re a package deal.

We both are strong,
We both kept our promise,
And we are both alive.

“Finally”, I whisper.
It’s so good to be here.
And my story is only beginning.

My safe haven from my mental illness is writing. I hope to reach out to others who are fighting as well.