Art

Im afraid the more i heal

The more the lose my spark

Anytime i get better 

It worsens my art

What is art

If not pain?

If not imitation of the state of my brain?

What is art

If not hurt?

How can i change my work?

I feel. Whole.

Complete

Am i no longer unique?

I thought my suffering defined me

Who am i?

If my skin and cracks smooth out

Will i still get an A in creative writing?

For so long i tried to figure out who i am.

At first i thought i was my grades

And then my depression

And then my pain

Was my prime simply the contents 

Of a PTSD ridddled mind?

Who am i without the flashbacks?

When i run out of stories for my therapist?

I sat down and tried to write.

Tried to go back and feel it all again

Up until a few months ago this was who i am

I never thought id forget to understand

I look back and i think i was edgy.

Or overreacting. 

But i know i wasn't.

That pain was real

And it was me

It and i deserve to be acknowledged.

Why wont you acknowledge me?

Why cant i acknowledge myself?

Who is this new person

Now that she got help?