Apology to Myself

I sat down today to write an apology to myself
I made a mental list of all the things I regretted
I read the charges and pleaded no contest
Realizing there is no need to name the knives
 I have driven into my own heart
Christening the blades sharpens their sting
And gives them meaning they do not deserve
Does the pain produce prose
Does the muse need to suffer twice
First from the wound
And second from the remorse
If I heal will I lose my poetry
I regret the time I acted out of spite
and harmed myself much more than the victim of my vengeance
I languish too long thinking of the times I did not speak up and  became what someone else wanted
Twisting into a version of myself that sickens me
And takes away a piece of my soul
Is it fate or free will that sets the regrettable things into motion
Are the lessons doled out from a contract signed in our blood
Or from a deity who knows our weaknesses
And fills those cracks with gold to create wabi-sabi art
That requires splitting open to become a masterpiece
Are we coconspirators commissioning a monument
That requires chipping away the masks of ourselves
To reveal nakedness and authenticity
Should I apologize for making the choices that
Bring me to this place of discovering myself
I am sorry I did  not embrace my flawed beauty sooner
For that I do apologize to myself