It tastes like grief
i hear the children
playing in the background
and the piecies inside of me
that were held together
just broke finally
i never ever
got to have that childhood
that i have been dreaming of my whole life
my whole life all I have ever wanted
was to be grown
to move out of the terror
the holocaust
known as my home growing up
where now still i feel so much fear and anxiety around kids
and babies
for they remind
me of the childhood
that had the worst atrocites
scarred inside of it
where my inner child
feels so scarred by life
that i sit with her and all i can hear is screams and cries
where every time that it gets closer to holidays or to the weekend
the pain just deepens
I am going to encounter one of my fears
to work with children
for my first time in years
and although children bring me so much joy
i am afraid to face myself
but i know that things are better
because for so long
I couldn't even look at pictures of my old self
and now I can a little bit more
I wish I could protect all of the children of the world
and not allow them to experience the pain
that I did my whole life
where I wasn't allowed to be a child
where I was abused so much
that I wanted to die all the time
where I would dream about
being a little bird
that could fly away
and be free
where I dissacociated so much
that I at the ripe age of 26
barely know who I am
because so much of who
I am is just pain
bullying and abuse
where I love people so much
but they have wounded
an incredibly broken heart
with their mocks stares
glares and just utter hatred of me
It hurts so much
but I am learning that I am the only one
that can save myself
so I am doing so
hugging my inner child
and telling her that I am so proud
because I truly am
and because no on ever really told her so.

As I come to write, I blank.
Its like I have so much to say and then it all stops.

Why?

As I come to write,
It’s like the woman holding the pen is new,
Shaken yet steady
Healing but hurting

As I come to write,
a baby cries and scatters my thoughts among the floor. Finding them among the puzzle piecies, magnetic tiles and shoes seems…
Daunting.

But Why?

Maybe its cause the girl who used to walk the train tracks is gone…
The one who drove drunk and sang to the morning sun. Maybe its cause our song has changed.
Gained a few voices along the way.

Maybe its cause the girl who used to find herself in others, is starting to fill the gaps in. Maybe its cause those new voices slowed her down enough that she was able to understand that alone, she is whole.


Yet, as I come to write.. I blank.