I Wore Pain Like It Belonged to Me

I wore pain like it belonged to me,
A weathered coat I would not shed.
I stitched it to my identity,
And let its stories fill my head.

I carried losses like a crown,
Every jewel was forged in flame.
Old heartaches weigh me down,
Answered when they called my name.

Years and I became acquainted,
Grief, regret, and what might have been.
Even my brightest memories tainted
By shadows gathered deep within.

I thought survival was the prize,
Simply stand when storms were through.
Never seeing wiser eyes
Could find a broader, kinder view.

Then one day truth arrived at last:
The wound is not the wounded man.
Pain may describe a piece of the past,
But it was never the whole plan.

So now I walk with lighter hands,
The fire behind me, not ahead.
I honor where my story stands,
But refuse the life my sorrow led.