Used to Be

How did I end up here?
Head half in the ground,
tattooed from all my lost loving failures,
looking crazy as hell.

There is a shadow of a man I wish to be
hiding deep in my skin.
So with blood as my zest I peel back my tough skin rind
and try to find
all that I long to be.
My finger nails first, scratch the surface
and the raw, dry skin releases easily.
My body hates what I've become.
If the skin could,
it would
slink
down itself,
like a dress fallen to beautiful exposure.
But the work is tough and true release has to come from yourself.

I want to dig me up
and clean away, not who I am,
but the mess I am not.

I am more.
I am better.
I am more.
I am better.
Someone tell me I am more.
I am better than to hide in the ground.
I am more than the air and breath me into your lungs
so I know I am worth more.
I am better than this.
I am more than what I used to be.

Photo by Nadia Hassler.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell