Forgiveness Is for Me
Forgiveness is for me—
it's not a gift I give to you.
It’s not a door swung open wide,
not some warm and healing glue.
It’s not an act to soothe your guilt,
or ease the weight you chose to bear.
You cared just enough to keep your peace,
not because you saw me truly there.
People care as much as needed—
just enough to save their skin.
A flash of guilt, a softened word,
then back to who they’ve always been.
But me—I carried every shard,
bled through silence, broke in two.
And still, I searched for something more,
some reason I could cling to you.
Now I know: forgiveness is for me,
to quiet storms that will never rest.
To hold myself through all I lost,
through every lonely night I wept.
To not forgive, the wound stays fresh—
a cruel and constant sting.
So I forgive, not for your sake—
its my special disturbing gift I give to me.
it's not a gift I give to you.
It’s not a door swung open wide,
not some warm and healing glue.
It’s not an act to soothe your guilt,
or ease the weight you chose to bear.
You cared just enough to keep your peace,
not because you saw me truly there.
People care as much as needed—
just enough to save their skin.
A flash of guilt, a softened word,
then back to who they’ve always been.
But me—I carried every shard,
bled through silence, broke in two.
And still, I searched for something more,
some reason I could cling to you.
Now I know: forgiveness is for me,
to quiet storms that will never rest.
To hold myself through all I lost,
through every lonely night I wept.
To not forgive, the wound stays fresh—
a cruel and constant sting.
So I forgive, not for your sake—
its my special disturbing gift I give to me.
