There is a little bit of you

That you lost along the way,

It happened one fine day,

And at the time,

Although it hurt

For a while,

There were other things

To tend to,

Other things crowding your mind;

So you stuffed the pain

In a dark corner,

And moved on,

Until the day,

When you lost yet another

Tiny bit of yourself;

You bowed your head

In shame, yet again;

Yet, moving on,

Was the name of the game,

It always was.

Until now –

When you pause,

To take stock,

And you realize

Just how much you’ve lost

Of yourself;

And how gaping

The wound is.

As for the shame,

You wonder if you’ll ever feel the same

As that day long ago,

Just before

You lost a bit of yourself,

For the very first time.

Image Credit: Photo by Francisco Moreno on StockSnap