And I ask myself,
"Am I ready for this?"
No way, disaster looms.
It can't turn out well.
I mean, if I step forward,
I can't go backward
and that's a familiar dance
with a broken record 
of an out of tune melody.
What if I just keep
leaving the past behind?
What plot twists does
my story have then?
The old hurts and memories
stay behind me like
a back tattoo and scars,
carved into my psyche
and body - not letting me escape.
But, what if I just carry them?
Take them with me 
but know they don't define
what's inside...or outside.
A part of me was created with them.
They put the puzzle together 
across my hands, the crevices of my brain,
what makes my blood drive through those channels in this vessel of mine.
There is nothing that I carry
that has killed me.
There is nothing that I carry
that has defeated me.
There is nothing that I carry
that dictates today, no.
They show where I've been
but not where I'm about to be.
So disaster?  No.
The marks are the proud remembrance
of when I told them
they could not beat me
and I believed I was tough enough
to take one more scar.
And I still am.