Well, I was cleaning and organizing my bedroom today. I went through several boxes of old papers, notebooks, and other things I had saved. I found this--what I think is--an unfinished poem. I can't guarantee it, but I feel like it was me writing about the inner part of me--my inner child, for lack of a better phrase--who had held tight to the hurt feelings from her younger years. I can see both sides of this thing. I can understand her hurt and even understand how it can be hard to let go of the hurt and hard feelings. However, I can also completely see the need to just let it go. How interesting that the child is the one who wins.
Anyway, here it is:
She stays with me, unhappy and hurt.
She stays with me, unforgiving and bitter.
She stays with me, unworthy.
She stays with me, unwanted.
I want to love her.
I want to forgive her.
But somehow, I cannot.
I want to hug her and tell her everything will be okay
and at the same time.
I do not want her to stay.