(Lackadaisically)

I've hidden myself away safely, for years

I've learned sharing only tears the stitches out

those thoughts fueled by the memory of hurt and fear

That we lightly made fashionable art

Out on the edge of release, I lean

Tempting both, gravity and knowing

Though deep the shadows, our innocence was preened

The cleansing winds always keep blowing

Beyond the canyons of despair

To the mountaintops of healing

Here we go again, I'll admit

It feels like window shopping

Picking with care the ones that no longer fit

With the new ones, a mathematical swapping

Releasing ones with limited power

and the ones that I've packed even deeper

Growing inside, a full garden of flowers

Another maniacally skilled minesweeper

Tearing away at the newly formed scars

To examine the ones without fragments

Facing the baggage of previous wars

To cleanse the ones that have become stagnant

So, to tell you the secrets that I hold inside

I risk renewing the wounds that once killed me

But I stand on the new growth with a newly found pride

Performing religious rites like those of a priest