purple and white and uneven
lines settle on my hips,
like the birds resting on the wire
across the street.
ashamed, hiding for so long
with the shadows in my head–
I had no idea what
to say to them, to justify, to defend,
but they are just birds
and I am just human
and in the end, does it matter?
I am alive, and I have fought monsters
every day of my life and am still
alive to tell the tale.
these are just reminders of everything
I have lost and everything
I have become
and so I’m going to do what I damn well please
and wear my battle scars