I am a blacksmith pounding away at my sins—

anvil to flint sends sparks sharp and bright

biting away the darkness inside of me

showing my colors for the world to see

because I will be seen

not during the day not in what people say

but in the dark in the night in the quiet—


when the hammers of shame and guilt

are swung with all their might

I will blaze back with my own light

I will prove my courage in a vivid blue

my beloved-ness in a purple so royal

that depression and anxiety will bend their knees

as I break free, because I am—


free from whatever lies I have embraced,

and whatever truth I happened to have misplaced

I take back now on grace because I’ve found space

inside skin that bears the scars of my sin,

and it’s not just mine it’s on the Divine’s,

so these demons will die with every reminder

that I am His bride—


and though this life may try to beat the beauty out of me

it only serves to engrave it deeper within me,

bringing out my orange glow like a full-body halo

as I take hold of my anchor and blaze red,

drawing blood from the night that tries to limit my sight

and instead proving me righteously right,

each of my colors burning bright

until the last day of my life.


My bad days make me—they dye the threads of my life,

woven together with beauty and strife

but the stitches aren’t mine to pick and sew;

I am a blacksmith, made for making embers glow.


About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

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