Ah , this endless game,
Tossing and turning and bathing in blame.
Mistakes are my specialty,
I make them all the time
I could be queen of losing my mind.
Working through trauma is like trudging through mud
Heavy feet on the ground, unable to lift to up
Shrinking and sinking far down below.
Feeling completely hollow.
But through the mud, the lotus flower grows
Its beauty shines through, even in snow.
In this stormy sea there’s a wave I can catch.
And break the strong current and avoid the attack;
On myself and my heart and my worthiness of love
Because I am the soul mate that I have been dreaming of.
And through the mist I must look cautiously
Not everything will always be as it seems
As long as I remind myself;
I am worth the love and care that I give
Its my mistakes after all, that I love and forgive.
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