scars

 if my scars are any indication

of humanness,

they bear witness to the

times i've tried

to perfect something

but failed,

times i've wanted to write

but words never found a page,

times i've wanted to speak

but bit my tongue

to placate someone,

anyone,

with whom i didn't want to engage.

i've found this life to be a blessing

but also one of despair,

subtle

but there.

as i try to buoy myself

against the currents

of life,

gasping for air

i am pulled underneath.

when will it end?

do i want it to end?

is the end near,

and will i have reason to fight,

or do i disappear like

an owl  at night

pulled into the darkness,

will this darkness be the answer?