Fear, shame, and guilt packed onto the frail frames of children.
Bruises are the accessories of their souls.
Innocence wiped from the faces of angels.
Harshness becomes the norm, thriving isn’t an option.
At least not for a while, more likely much longer.
Tasting freedom with the coming of age, finally.
But darkness from the past continues to weigh heavy.
Their existence tainted still.
Mental anguish persists from pain doled out by monsters of the past.
Fear, shame, and guilt still trapped deep.
Intensely alone with their damaging construct.
It’s still survival mode.
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Reblogged this on I Write Her and commented:
Redux
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You Write Me.
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((hugs))
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oh for eff’s sake this gave me chills!
Tragically, beautifully accurate.
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It’s hard (but wonderful) for me sometimes to think others are touched by my emotions, so thank you. I appreciate your words.
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