When I wrote about my fears that I had lost all of my tears I was speaking of I thing I didn’t know.
That in my mind there dwelt a child, all innocent and mild, but tucked away back where she could not grow.
For twenty something years, she’d held onto all my tears and that was the reason they’d not flow.
And that lack of tears, sustained across the years, left an emptiness I couldn’t let show.
So I filled the void with food, or anything to change my mood, all caution to the wind did I throw.
I harmed my mind and body, self-destruction was my hobby, I lived for Mandy, Weed and Blow.
Psychedelics opened my mind, but to myself I was unkind, I counted my self-worth by the kilo.
Scars appeared upon my skin, red and raised where blades went in, each one closer to that fatal blow.
I just did not belong, everywhere I went, I felt wrong, misplaced, displaced a feeling that would not go.
Now I’m learning to shed tears for what I lost across those years and it’s funny, but it’s only now I know.
That to recover is to feel, to go through it is to heal and for this the scars inside my soul must show.
But as vulnerability, and allowing ME to be, and giving myself space to learn and grow.
© Katy Matilda Neo July 2017