No poem can heal the
hole in my heart,
the ringing in my ears,
the tension in my back,
the dry, calloused hands
I work with,
or the disease in my brain.

No poem can heal me.
No words can describe
the aching loneliness I
feel, constantly,
inside.

But, still, I strive.
I dive.
I swim for something
better than
what I’ve been,
or whom I’m hurt.

I aim to forgive those
who have hurt me.

And I hope, maybe,
if I can forgive them,
just maybe,
the hole in my heart will
heal.

And the rest will follow
suit.

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