You know I'm just there, pondering...wondering,
It's like I imagined a world where I could roam,
Seeing all the damage I dealt and received,
A room of statues where the final hit is carved.

As I walk by them they scream the last words said,
Each scream is like a cut that lacerates my skin,
Their heads move to follow me even as I leave the room,
I can sense the pulse of the statue's heart thumping fiercely within.

In this haunting gallery, my sins on display,
Frozen in time, they beg for release, for grace,
Their eyes beseech, their silent please on replay,
Trapped in this nightmare, they can't escape this place. 

There's a place to recover, I  know of the building,
It's currently under construction, but statues do reside there,
When I visit the place the statues are in pieces, the foundation intact,
I pick up the shattered pieces as my hands bleed, rebuilding my comfort

Slowly, the broken statues begin to regain form, 
Their agonized expressions soften, the pain starts to transform, 
As I breathe life into them with every piece I restore, 
I feel their gratitude, their suffering I can't ignore.

I sit there once the job is done, in shock,
They share a common grace, the statue of sins, 
Once etched in stone, begins to fade and blend,
With the figures seeking forgiveness, side by side, they mend.

(Her: “I… feel bad about… what happened.”

So, you’re apologizing?

Her: “Yes! I’m sorry…”

Okay. I don’t forgive you.

Her: “E, I said I’m sorry.”

Yeah, and I do not forgive you. The scars from the cuts, the bruises, and the trauma do not forgive!! I have to wear makeup to cover them, so I do not forgive you.)

In a solemn space, her voice did sigh,
“I… feel bad about… what happened,” she cried.
A longing for solace, an apology’s plea,
Her words hung heavy, filled with remorse, indeed.

“So, you’re apologizing?” I asked, firm and cold,
A heart locked away, my forgiveness untold.
“Yes! I’m sorry,” she pleaded, voice trembling and meek,
Seeking absolution, her spirit seemed weak.

But my scars, oh, my scars, they whisper their pain,
Etched on my soul, a reminder of disdain.
The cuts and bruises, trauma’s cruel embrace,
They refuse to forgive, forever leaving their trace.

“I don’t forgive you,” I declared, resolute,
Each word like a dagger, my heart’s bitter fruit.
Her apology faltered, tears mingled with fear,
As my wounds bled anew, salted by memories severe.

For I wear makeup, a mask to conceal,
The visible marks, the wounds that won’t heal.
No forgiveness in sight, no solace to find,
Only shadows of torment, etched on my mind.

The conversation weaved into a poem’s embrace,
Unveiling a tale of pain, laid bare with grace.
A dialogue of sorrow, where forgiveness faltered,
Echoes of anguish, where wounds still altered.

Yet, perhaps one day, forgiveness may arrive,
A tender release, where pain can subside.
But for now, the scars remain, a testament true,
As I navigate a healing path, seeking peace anew.

At the end of the first year of college,
Crazy, funny, stressful and depressing.
A journey of emotions, an extraordinary path,
Where the heart became captive.

The nights of partying, laughter and sleeplessness,
New friends, linked souls.
The stress squeezing every hair,
In each challenge, life unleashed.

There were moments of despair
Tight schedules, endless tasks.
But also of deep connection,
Where love and friendship are forged without end.

Every day was a challenge, a roller coaster,
The roller coaster of youth in bloom.
With ups and downs, like confusing life,
But always wanting to look for value.

Despite the tears shed,
And the sleepless nights, without finding comfort,
The people I met have left their mark on me,
And in my heart, their friendship is a longing.

The first year comes to an end,
But ties endure, time does not fade them.
We will keep in touch, beyond the border,
A friendship that the future enriches.

So I toast to the moments lived,
For the shared laughter and woven dreams.
For the experiences I will never forget,
And for the friendships that I will always value.

The first year in college is gone,
But the memories will remain etched.
Dear friends, near or far, they will always be,
Although time passes and the roads have changed.