My Choice Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

And what a revelation!
I thought I had them buried,
Those scars of devastation
That in my past I carried.

Some wounds don't seem to heal
They bleed in hidden silence.
I was alright with what I feel
Until his words broke my pretense.

Some poems are like music
They bring back memories,
Times of hurts or loss so tragic -
Like replaying surgeries.

But my choice is always mine,
The misty Past to Pain I gave.
My days to come I will define
To former wounds I'm not a slave!

I've been set free and I will be
Filled with Hope and live content,
Struggling, yes! But I am Me,
I have no fear to mold my Present.