Bed of dirt
My soul lies
None see
But me.
No matter
Baths/showers taken
Never comes clean.
Past-want erased
Permanently.
Gaping hole
Yearning
For closure.
Self-doubting
Second guessing
Every decision.
Wondering
If I did this
Or that
Things be different.
Internalizing anger
And shame
Physically violated.
F--king bastard!
Want to rake
Nails deep
Across your face.
Scarring you
As you’ve done
To me.
Momentary satisfaction
Never restoring
Innocence lost.
Blessed
I'm not you
Letting rage
Consume me.
Holistically
Healing myself
At own pace.
Having learned
The hard way
No rushing healing.
Crossing Hell
Traversing valleys
Of tortured souls
Reaching this point.
Knowing this
Whatever relationship
Forever dead
By your actions.
As your excuses
Ring bitterly hollow
To this battered
But healing soul.
Therisa © 2018
Author's note: In August 2007, I broke all contact with my younger brother, as I told him that he was dead to me. For the previous 3+ decades, he made my life, a living Hell. Various times, he physically, emotionally and verbally attacked mom and I. To the point, he is part of the reason that I have PTSD, depression, and anxiety disorders.
1 comment:
Writing your pain is hopefully one more brick on the path of healing, my friend. It is good to sever relations with those who are so toxic to us.
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