Philosophical

As I sat alone in that room 
My voice echoed off the walls, 
Into new voices with my own story, 
The same pain, the same guilt, 
Saw through the same eyes. 
“How happy we are, we are not you 
So we can cast our eyes, 
To look down upon the forgotten, 
And paint your sin 
With colors of our own.” 
But the voices said “Nay, 
We have paint of our own, 
And shall create a new door 
Out of this room 
And away from suffering.” 
For those who were cut 
Know how to stop the bleeding, 
How to ease the pain 
And how after many years 
To eventually forget the scars.

The Meeting