ChildhoodTrauma

A tale of a Dad, A story once bright, And his dearest son, Though not born of his blood. This dad was the best— With

My mama always said, “I will do anything to protect my children,” And that night, she kept her promise to the end, And her words

Where do broken hearts go? I have given you days, weeks And years to think of this You don’t think You float in a maze,

By my window, I watch their joy, A mother and daughters, their laughter ringing clear. Yet my heart bleeds, burdened by memories, Of a child