ChildhoodTrauma

The tale of a sibling This sibling— Not just any sibling, But the firstborn sibling. This sibling, Always in charge, Always knowing what to do,

You left… Without saying a word, you left. You didn’t care what would happen to me, You didn’t bother to think of me, not once,

I never wanted to be like him— Bitter, angry, cold, and grim. I never wanted to be like her— Fragile, lost, a prisoner. I never

I still feel the pain, Hard to stay sane, With memories that never go away. Day by day, The pain is born again. Whatever I

The bell for last period always rang early, Or maybe I just hated the thought of leaving, Because school was fun and safer for me,

Under the harshful sun’s glare, They wander the streets with hopeless stares. With their legs bare and cursed their spirits frail, While they tell a

I stared as they ran, laughter so wild. They moved freely, unbridled, and agile. I put in every effort to follow, but my steps betrayed

Born to serve, but never appreciated enough, That was all I knew since I could remember, All that happened in the time home was hell,

I hate lines Vertical, horizontal, diagonal. I don’t draw them, Or stare at them, Or myself. I don’t swim, I don’t chill in a beach,