Better

This is what I could be.

I cannot erase the mistakes I’ve made in the past, but I can learn from them. Better.
I can take the tears I’ve shed the past months, the past years, and transform them into a brightly shining sea. Better.
I can take the hurt I felt when I loved and was not loved back and use it to remind myself that I have been to that place where love was a comfort and a protection from the harshness of reality. Better.
I can remember the pain of the healing wound and use it as a reminder for more caution the next time, but not too much that I imprison myself in a dreary cell just so to run from love. Better.
I can put all my angst about the hardships of life in clay and use it to construct a woman that is a fiber stronger than most. Better.
I can do away with whines and gripes about work and use it as a refining fire to sharpen the tools in my shed. Better.
I can slink away from the heavy cloaks of Despair, the clutches of a life-snuffing hell, and choose a path to the realm of the Prince of Dreams. Better.
I am living a life more precious than silver, the witch-metal which accepts all and can-be-all. Metamorphosis is a word often heard from juveniles, but it is no less true when said a few years afterwards when one is still searching. The truth is that we exist to struggle so as to break free from our molds. I accept this now. Better.

This is all I could be.

I will be, I am... Better.