Maybe it wasn’t about becoming but instead unbecoming. Unbecoming the deceit that robbed me from my childhood. The masked words of hatred that reached into the depths of my soul. The bruises that painted over my body like the scarlet letter. The thoughts that casually paraded around my mind to pull me into a deep slumber. Maybe the times I cried out asking God to forgive them, though the song I wrote was broken in surrender. To make me anew, and start a journey along the river, falling deep into the trenches where no one can hear. Maybe it was never about being right but instead finding truth. His voice called out to me, I am now realigned with you. To rid myself of malice, those unforgiving words. The slither of your bite could hold me no more. To look at the world and see how we are all broken, to realize the battle is beyond my control. I hold onto the moment where I can finally roam, free into your love, I am healed, I am home.