The uncomfortable phase of
g r o w t h
Is often overlooked.
As people parade their new selves around,
They hardly mention the unpleasantries,
Such as the thick stretch marks
That are left on your soul.
No matter how much you want to,
You can never shrink back to who you were before.
Your hands run over these new marks,
And you are reminded of how much you endured to get them.
The shock of looking at someone you no longer recognize is paralyzing.
A stranger now lives in your head,
And you pray the two of you will get along.
You grieve the loss of yourself,
And mourn the days when you were sure of yourself.
Growth is painful, long, and unnerving,
Constantly forcing you to get to know yourself over and over again.
All we can do
Is leave flowers on the graves of who we used to be,
And dance to the rhythm of hope.