Trauma Cycle


I used to wonder what it felt like to feel a part of.
I gave myself every chance to fail and I blamed myself for all of it.
Because that’s what I learned.
That’s the lesson that you taught.
A swift hand, broken again.
Words that sliced like knives.
What I can’t understand is the how, not the why.
Deep emptiness craves more unto itself.
But how you could feel justified in such harm?
To look into the eyes of a child and fight.
Fight the ghosts held within you, towards me.
You know I was never happy?
I had to tip-toe through my entire life.
Hoping to eventually pick up some self-worth.
Like I could just stumble upon it, without ever leaving your grip.
Your ghosts became mine.
They held enough courage to stay alive during the night.
Yeah, I’m all right. Just fine.
Turn the other cheek and maybe I’ll go blind.
Because what I want to see has never been anything but a pipe dream.
And the reality is enough to make me scream.
All through the night.
Night terrors coming alive.
I had never wanted anything more than to just feel accepted.
That making a mistake wasn’t the end of me but the beginning of learning.
Instead each lesson you taught was carved into my eyes.
Deliberately screamed into each ear.
What kind of man does that?
The answer is no one, nothing.

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