ChildhoodTrauma

Alone. I had always been like that even then, Shattered and ruined by those who swore love, Broken by that which I dared to love

Dreadful, dark, eerie! In an attic, I’m locked, Come out? How? When the world is ready to torment me, Ready to grind the abloom petals

What would it take for you to miss that meeting today? On my 7th birthday? Or not pick up that call, When I was talking

Born with freedom, Yet locked in an invisible cage. No sense of freedom anymore, As my joy becomes a stolen page. Forced into the streets

Not today, my dear, Tomorrow, my dear, Next time, my dear— Another tale of a dad. This dad, a busy dad, Always too busy for

A night spent on my mother’s grave, This place, a haven of late. I feel the soil’s texture through my torn shirt, My dry blood

Once upon a time, In a young girl’s heart, Cheer and warmth abounded. Such lightness, such openness; A shield from every outside threat. In due

Look at me, do I look whole? Mom thinks I’m broken, But I’m not just broken, I’m also battered, And I can’t fix myself. Physically

There are days that I dare to dream otherwise, Of what a home would be for me and mine, Of how I would fill it

A girl. A child. A daughter. A human, perhaps, But all you saw was a toughest man in there, When all I wanted to be