Got better at rhyming words
But still can’t truly express my hurt
Still can’t love myself but
want others to see my worth.
Got better at being alone
But still afraid of an empty home
Still searching for a hand to hold
that keeps me safe when I roam.
Got better at letting things go
But still afraid of losing control
Still carrying parts of the past in my soul
Even though, I can’t bring back the smile it stole.