once.
something heavy, rough hits you in the back,
it crushes the spine, and I understand that this is protection.
not mine
from me
I became what I was afraid of as a child
by his mother
by all those who were victims
eternal victim in a cage of circumstances
and when the cage could be broken,
I gnawed at the bars, shedding tears.

circumstances
disease
past
grievances
injuries

this is not me, but only a part of me. then why am I forced to think that it is me? that I am a disease? that I am a trauma?
It was easy to convince myself of this. Convincing others of this is even easier.

now every day
ropes are cut off
that keep me on the edge of a slimy abyss,
which has become damp against the rain
and this dirt is waiting for me, it wants me to become
part of something bigger. so that I become a disease. injury. fear. destruction. pain.

and every day, from the moment they pulled me out, scalded by powerlessness, I don’t look down - I’ll become so scared of heights.
I look at the cliff, I hold tightly to the grass, which clings under my skin, growing into veins and arteries. she warms me and gives me life.

and every day after dark, from the moment I opened my eyes,
I chop off every vile dirty trick that seeks to grow like a cancerous tumor and make me something I am not. she tries to make me codependent. mistake. illness. a monster.

and I'm a man. I clutch the roots of huge trees that were once grass, I cling to life, breaking my nails. and every day I'm one step closer to getting out. to realize one's own integrity.

I am already aware of it.
I talk to people and they forgive me.
people give me a second chance, and I'm not alone here. holding knives in weak hands, I grow stronger with faith in myself, and cut out what poisons life, so that one day

fell a tree
and go over the abyss
across the bridge
their own, strong
feet.