Today, I woke up knowing I was free.
I threw away the sheets and brushed my hair.
It's good to know that you can't come near me.
I'm not that sorry for throwing you away—
you, who used me like a toy with which to play.
My scars remind me of you every day.
Sometimes, I forget what is real and what is not.
I . . . forget who my friends are and who are not.
I . . . forget
that life goes on without you, that I still am free.
But, am I . . . free?
