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“You did it wrong” “You took too long”
“Why aren’t you better yet?”
Silent accusations flew
As harsh as harsh could get
“I tried my best” “I gave my all”
“What else could I have done?”
In this world of fragile healing
Answers, there were none
Questions, though, were neverending
Bombarding me all night
I became my own accuser
Burdened, lacking sight
No one outside could ever know
This turmoil hid so deep
Not as gashes that will heal
But as wounds I keep
I longed to calm the inner me
Afraid to ask for help
But I was my worst enemy
As proven by my welts
Maybe not the kind you see
All reddened and inflamed
But the kind I held inside
Ashamed of my self blame
I didn’t understand why I
Kept going round and round
The same queries, same feelings, too
With nothing figured out
I felt that something was quite wrong
With my recovery
When reason fled, I thought there was
Something wrong with me
Healing is a winding road
It’s more than just the end
It’s falling down and crawling on
While learning how to bend
It’s taking every thought and
Making sense of what I can
Learning that I’m not alone
When offered someone’s hand
Opening my eyes to see
A new perspective bright
Becoming resolute that I
Won’t quit without a fight
Most of all, recovery
Is not one size fits all
We all have different paths to walk
No movement is too small
And in the end, when it does come
We’ll look back with ease
And see how every step we took
Finally led to peace

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