Upon furthrt reflection,
Nothing changed in me,
Except for the way
I deal with my self loathing.

I don't fight it,
I embrace it.

I accept the loss and absence
And claim it was
Intentional.

Bukowski says it matters how you walk through the fire.

Well,
I stumble around in the coals
And find
My way out,
After bearing the pain
Of my soul on fire.

Learning patience
And how
To endure
The suffering.