• Religious Abuse,  Trauma,  Uncategorized

    Biography of a Traumatized Person

    A poetic glimpse into the prison of trauma

    “Are you ever coming back?”
    I never fully left –
    You made sure of that

    You trapped my past self behind bars
    Silent screams echoing
    Swapped innocence for scars

    My stolen youth, still frozen in time
    Waves from your stones reverberate
    Rippling across decades, resounding in my mind

    I carry your shrapnel in my body
    Fingerprints on my arm, bruised indentations
    Voices in my head, faces in flashbacks I see

    Depositing love, I withdrew pain
    Maybe that’s why you say “give until it hurts”
    I swear, my only sin was trusting

    Reaching through time you stole
    Marring moments that were mine
    Claiming my emptiness was a God-sized hole

    You took away what I didn’t even have yet
    That was my inheritance, my change you spent
    Hating a version of me you hadn’t even met

    Reducing the chances she would ever be born
    Protecting your agenda, eliminating threats
    Intimidated by a woman who can weather the storm

    Mining my soul for power and control
    Extracting what you needed from my lifeless form
    You felt tall by pushing me low

    The old me is still back there, a square in your quilt
    You’ve stitched her in between colorful demons
    Hemmed in, a brick in the empire you built

    I’m cursed, but I swear I wasn’t born with this fate
    Cornered, held down, I couldn’t escape
    Fangs sunk in deep, cold venom contaminates

    Now it oozes out my pores, infecting those I love most
    I cower, I lash out, I hate this master
    I’m contagious, watch out, don’t get too close

    Everything I touch crumbles under my weight
    I test each foothold in case the floor falls through
    As I approach, healing waters evaporate

    Splash in the rain only to find pools of blood
    I breathe in sweet nectar only to cough on dust
    The oasis was a mirage, I sink into mud

    Every shadow looms like a monster, every tree a beast
    The wind chases me, strangers leer
    Each new sound a potential threat – dangers never cease

    Is joy even real or are y’all pretending?
    I have a vague a distant memory
    Is happiness a carrot on a stick, to keep us running?

    New life springs up in tender green leaves
    Delicately sprouting forth, from my younger, decaying corpse
    I lay petals on her grave, wipe snot on my sleeves

    Life is so cruel and unfair
    She should never have had to die
    But if she didn’t, would I be here?