Deja Vu

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I have the tendency to see memories with rose colored glasses
I forget how heavy my heart felt
The way my throat stung red
That is the reason I forgive I think
To mask  painful trying to soothe
My brokenness

I kick myself for it sometimes
The way I can be harmed so violently
And still make sure my abusers needs are taken care of

sometimes I think
How magical
I'm the girl who can see stars in the night
When all others see is darkness

But what use is it building bridges?
When it's built on my own back
When I am left  carrying the survivors burden and the abusers shame

Moonlight ( A collection of poems)Where stories live. Discover now