My weakness was my first love.
Scratch that. First lust and with that heartbreak came the first cut.
I choose to starve my distractions, while it’s my focus I feed it to the Egyptians like the locusts
Don’t be so distracted by the rose cos you forget that it too has thorns which cause harm,
Thorns on the crown left marks and stripes on his chest tell me that even I was to suffer death by a thousand cuts.
I must always turn the other cheek.
Their words slice deep, so I must grow thicker skin
Traces to which the path I learn to process my progress
I must lean not on what I can comprehend because the sharpness of this pasture could end me
Blades of grass prick pieces of my past which, too, will cut deep.
Scars heal – given time
But ignorance to their existence can reopen the oldest of wounds
So show mercy.
Because a brother’s betrayal can cut through the thickest of skin.
Writer: Gabriel Amida (@isleofxtlas)
Editor: Rachael Air (r.xchael_)