Penance is outdated.
But I will be a martyr to my pain,
slain by thinking too much
and anxiety overwhelming.
But that me is not.
I’ve seen him and his battles fought,
the wars waged in his head
on a constant replay in mine.
So I rage on in his place.
For all the chances he didn’t take,
and all the hurt left in his wake,
promising to be a better me.