I am wounded. I’m a wounded woman who’s been wounded with wounds
because pain is something that I’ve always consumed
ever since I came out of the womb.
Wounded because I learned what self-hate was before I knew what self-love was.
Wounded because I thought calling myself beautiful was a lie,
so I learned how to call myself the “ugly truth”.
Wounded because growing up, I learned what pain was before I knew what love was.
While I consumed pain, I learned how to be broken without ever being fixed.
And what happens when you mix a broken girl with more pain?
She’ll believe that all she was born to do was to become broken,
because my wounds never healed, they just dug deeper.
When people see the scars on my skin, they don’t realize the struggle I’ve had.
They don’t realize how hard it is for me to love myself
because I didn’t think that I could ever love myself.
They don’t realize that it’s not easy to heal from the pain that I’ve suffered.
Just because I’m able to heal, that doesn’t mean I’ll heal quickly.
The scars on my skin don’t symbolize my surrender to hate.
The scars on my skin symbolize my battle against hate.
The fact that I’ve been through what I’ve been through and I’m still alive today
means that God does have a purpose for me,
I was just too broken to see it for a while.
The fact that I’ve been through what I’ve been through and I’m still alive today
means that I chose to live! I chose to fight! I chose to survive!
The scars on my skin symbolize my survival.
