Pain is temporary

Alyssa Cabrera

Who will I be when this is all over?

Just avoid looking into their eyes.

Muffled whispering over my shoulder.

 

Paralyzing pain makes everything grow colder.

Hope my brain disapproves of their lies.

Who will I be when this is all over?

 

Maybe I’ll grow from this when I am older.

Through verbal torture, another piece of me dies.

Muffled whispering over my shoulder.

 

Each and every day feels a little bit slower.

From what has been said I can only surmise.

Who will I be when this is all over?

 

Aching to reach some personal closure.

But a change in perspective begins to arise.

Bothersome whispering over my shoulder.

 

Finding a way to keep my composure.

Confidence serves as a welcoming surprise.

Who will I be when this is all over?

Learning to ignore the whispering over my shoulder.