I WAKE UP AND

I wake up every day and although it’s never the same,

most days I am ashamed.

Some days, I wake up and I feel happy.

Some days, I wake up and I feel broken.

Day after day.

Night after night.

Their ghosts haunt me.

Because,

I was hurt,

I was beaten.

Because

I let them hurt me,

let them beat me.

With their words,

their moods,

their hands.

I wake up and

I want to love myself and

I want to celebrate

that I am alive

that I have endured.

And yet,

most days I wake up and I am ashamed.