remission

You follow the course

Each bastard cell

Swollen with guilt

Dies and makes you aware

Of its passing

You look into their eyes

See the hurt you’ve caused

Fresh marks down their forearms

They go to courses

Which teach them how to clean up

After cutting

It’s all you can do not to weep

Not from self-pity

But because you,

Furtive bastard that you were,

Thought you could play without consequence

And sat there, sober and rebuilt,

She reminds you

How far you’ve come

And how far you still have left

To travel.

There is good in you,

A strength which means no one sees you

Weep who hasn’t earned it

You had to be torn down

To be rebuilt

And no one notices your goodness

Because they shouldn’t fucking have had to,

You tell yourself you were young

Naive, unhappy and furtive with the unhappiness

But you still live with what you’ve done

And you’re somewhere stronger,

Harder and more loving,

Keep it all in

Handle your shit

You know how awful it can get,

But goodness isn’t done for an audience

It’s so you can sleep at night

Kill that furtive bastard

Who bore your face

And if no one recognises the effort

You do

And that is

Enough

Put it in remission

When you see her,

You don’t tell her how she makes it easy

Not to be a bastard anymore

Not from fear but because you’ve lost

The taste of anything but her,

Women still smile at you,

You smile back,

But nothing more,

You still bear a hunter’s appeal

Don’t you and yet you’re more

Aware that being able to get any woman

Means you get any woman

And you are kinder to yourself

As a result.

Because to escape the hell you made

Burns at every step upwards

But heaven awaits

A place

A person

A state of being

Where you stop hurting

The ones you love

Most of all

Yourself.