Harm, the destruction of self.
To move on, one must carve out a space.
Curate safety.
Out of grasp from that which harms.
They must take time:
Process pain,
Regain self,
and repeat…
until they can broach out again.
Afraid but willing.
But how much is too much?
How many forgivenesses until I no longer believe?
At what point is it better to just stay out of grasp.
In the safety I made.
To float on another plain amidst others
Alone but unafraid.
An existence unburdened
Alone but unafraid.