My mind takes a walk down Memory Lane while I sit under a microscope.

Insects and spiders crawl along my spine as I reveal secrets even my skeletons don't know.

I toss her strings, and she follows them until she finds treasure I call trash.

After I reopen my scars and have bled from my mouth, she hands me gauze.

She teaches me how to wrap myself up into a cocoon that will put the pain in its' place.

I hope this cocoon sends me into a metamorphosis, so that I can come out of it a butterfly.

I wish to fly with the wind, not fight against it as I have been.

But Memory Lane is a long road with many houses to visit.

My scars form an army, and I'm only a soldier.

Gauze is vulnerable to the steel the pain holds in its' hands.

How can I fight against this?

How can I heal from this?

I know there are many battles in the war, and I know I will lose some.

I just have to build new houses on Memory Lane that reminds me of the wins.

Hope is the flower I hold in my hands that will give me the courage to keep knocking on doors.

Support from other wounded soldiers with armies of their own to fight will have their hands on my back to push me forward.

I know I must continue the fight.

For this is a battle I cannot afford to lose.