She was winning

From the torn pages of her diary,

was she done trying to reconstruct,

and reconnect, dots and pieces

to a puzzle of her life

she couldn't figure out.

She was done drowning in tears,

being engulfed in fears,

for the years she'd yearned

to forget,

the battles she'd learned

to forfeit,

the photos she'd burned

to protect,

herself from,

from ever going back.

"Don't renege,"

she reminded herself, quietly.

New page on her diary,

strangely, same handwriting.

The vocabulary was different

strangely, same pens and pencils.

She was fighting a different war

with the same tools.

& impressively,

she was winning.