Upon me lies words that no one speaks.
Words that have been scribbled furiously with a hand that wouldn’t stop
shaking. A hand that’s connected to a heart that ept. The heart
that made me was shredded as I find I will soon be as well. The tiny holes
where the pencil pressed too hard and the tear drops that smudged the words of
anguish are only battle scars to me. For although I was created by
something shredded, I was made to put it back together.
I see the hand holding me in a new light now.
I came into its life brand new and full of dreams of being handled with
care and held onto for centuries. But I see now, that that was not the
path for me, nor would I ever want it to be now. You see, I can be so
much more that an old manuscript in a much shorter time. I am a healing
board. I take the words that come out of a soul so battered and I give
back some emotion to the one who feels so empty. I make them see what it
truly means to hurt and what it truly means to piece yourself back together.
From the hard tears in me, I’ve learned that I wouldn’t want to be
treated with care, because then all I wouldn’t be real. I may have been
respected and revered, but that isn’t in life in the day to day.
Although I may appear flimsy, I hold the power
to stop a hand from shaking, to stop a heart from breaking, to stop the tears
before there are no more left to cry. So you see while I may be about to
be shredded, at least I fixed something just like me.
There’s no point in living life without truly
risking everything. To know life as only precious handling is not to have
lived. Living is being torn apart, having tears drops smudge your words,
and being shredded over and over yet finding a way to put yourself back
together. So please, tear me apart with your shaking hand and your
crushed soul, this is living. I promise, I’ll come back recycled,
slightly used, but stronger for it.
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