Rehabilitation is the Problem

I’m not always full of shame, self pity, or sorrow
But then again neither joy, pride, or hope for tomorrow

I want to do right by these and prove I’m better
to touch lives, be the voice of my victim and never forget ‘er

I have scars like most people do
Some of them run so deep, like trenches swallowing my deluge
Their banks reach and cut right through me, and when they don’t I wish they would
Not all of them are visible but if you looked and search you probably could

I’m not always full of shame, self pity, or sorrow
But then again neither joy, pride, or hope for tomorrow
I’m not always sad and bleak, self blaming, and self punishing
But behind an overflow of smiles is still a restless seed growing
Blossoming a drive and need to be different that yesterday
A need to believe that regardless of what is said I’m worthy of today
That my breath is deserving of being followed by another
And if I asked for help we could defy the odds and lean on each other

When I summon the courage, the strength, and assertiveness
He counsels me with rage, disdain, and conservativeness
If I ask one question it’s too many
and if I wonder why he explains I don’t matter any
He said it first, but this whole time I was thinking it
That you cant rise from mud but instead sink in it
That changing myself, my life, and my attitude is not good enough
And right before my eyes he called my poor excuse of a bluff

I thought that I could change the meaning of these scars.
Meandering from mistakes of inner battles manifested into wars
I thought I could reversely rearrange where the roads lead from the past
To change the future to illuminate the whole picture where the shadows cast

Man, you’ve proved me wrong.
There is no moving on when stigma follows you along.