Kicking the sticks and stones
and the rocks and pebbles
and all the cracked and jagged sides
that seem to hurt no matter how you look at it
because as tough as they seem
and feel, they're actually just that fragile
If dropped, they shatter
into a million tiny, little pieces
that scratch something that's much farther
than just the surface
because when you look inside
the child that stares back
feels so unbelievably familiar
yet so unbelievably wrong
maybe it's because its the you
that never grew up
the you that hasn't been hurt
because you protected it with so many walls
that it couldn't find a way out
to keep it safe
the coping mechanism
from such a young age
just to keep you safe
you can't see it though
and maybe that's for the best
how all these different parts
show off the different parts of you
and this child
is what could've been
if you'd had what you deserve
from the start
The little kid that questions the world
That seems to understand emotions but
never had to experience pain like you did
never had to pretend to be okay
just to get home
and do another thing
that you might regret later
but it's the only way survival can be assured
in the moment
No, it never had to understand that.
and that's for the best, you think
because if that little kid ever got hurt
you'd do more than you ever did for yourself
funny though, because when you were that kid
it seemed okay
didn't it?
YOU ARE READING
Remembrance
Poetrya poetry collection that somewhat follows my path into recovery. i'm not saying i'm there yet, or anywhere near 'mentally okay,' but i'm getting closer every day. TW for mentions of childhood trauma, abuse, divorce, self harm (no details, just a ref...
