If I Could Time Travel

The words stab through those with blood dripping down my hand. My words so sharp that they can slice through diamonds and cut it instantly to sharp pieces. The pieces are on the floor for everyone to step on. Afraid, I attempt to pick up the parts but some are always left behind- not on purpose. I try. I feel like a murderer sometimes, so afraid my pain will reflect on others. I try my hardest to let the wound in and not let others feel it, but it's so hard. Growing up in an environment of others hiding their pain, and my mother and I screaming it to others, telling them what hurts and why. My mothers voice created mine, which i thank the earth that kissed our skin for. How we are meshed as one, but when the pain gets too high, we spread our despair like a bright light, blinding others that eventually will blinden us. When will I learn to keep my pain inside? When will I learn again to speak my pain with softness, as if speaking to a baby or as if kissing the hands of a grandparent. Before I met you, I was as soft as the fur of a chinchilla and learned to take the dirt you gave and turn it into flowers for you. But when I left, I was gifted with the tourmate you bestowed upon me, striking me with lightning and changing me. How does one change the clock and go back to how I used to be in 2019.