Circatrices

I was born out of pain, of sorrow -
Subdued and then, delivered
I was nurtured by broken hopes,
Emerging from fallen castles of dreams
I was raised in depths of uncertainty
Whilst drowning in waves of remorse
I have grown with immense hatred,
With trivial fury as the antecedent
I have mastered the art of deception,
Masked by charades of tenacity
I have created a palace for numbness
For the less one feels the better.
I am in a crusade where endurance
Made it harder to fight and thrive
I am forlorn not because of loneliness
Rather, of animosity towards myself
Finally, I am all but a scar -
A sigil for the healing that is yet to come
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