It's a lot of tears for a love hardened so dry,
Nothing to gain but everything to lose if I don't grieve or cry.
Just how much suppression is enough to be all good for others?
Like a pile of sticks, stones, and dried leaves that wrap up my inner shell, my loneliness, in dusty feathers.
To embrace my true self now is to come clean with all the hidden pain,
And let it sweep the old for the new, nothing to lose, but a life put together to gain.
I had given up on hope and courage and faith on a power higher than my fears,
It took me decades to accept that I am sensitive but not kind to myself, a truth that shifted my life's gears.
Letting go all my inner criticism, an echo of my mother's projections, a long standing wound,
To heal is feeling fearful sometimes as the criticisms will stop to hound.
Self love is not trying to be good enough for anyone except you,
A mindful habit to hold your brokenness together and show some daily love and not just out of the blue.
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