Innocence bled through your pores,
feeding the monsters under the bed,
the ghosts in your dreams,
and the skeletons in your closet.
Your cheeks were red,
and your eyes were puffy.
They were the things that woke you
in the middle of the night,
these thoughts you couldn't control.
Memories or emotions,
ones that might uproot the very essence of your being,
and devour you with fright.
Because trauma doesn't fade.
It leaves you alone in the bed you've made,
lingering until strength fades
and weakness seeps in.
Every moment that passes
is a strike to the heart.
These memories are the things that wake you,
break you.
