Transforming Poetry

Trauma

How did I get here?
Where did my life go?
This was not how I thought I would end up.

I thought I'd meet a prince,
Or even just someone great,
Who would sweep me to a far away land to live dreams.

I thought I would learn to dance,
To sing and act and draw and more
I thought that I would be important, someone with talent.

I thought I would be able to
Help others with their trials
Give advice and be so loved by friends and family.

Instead my life broke in one day.
A hand.
A person.
A room.
Darkness.

No escape.
'No' doesn't exist,
You can't say 'stop' anymore.
That prince you wanted,
Won't take you now,
Spoiled goods is all you are.

They found me out.
They didn't care.
'Its all your fault'  they say.
I accept the blame.
Leave it all.

But it breaks me inside.
Breaks me outside.
Breaks me all round.

I tried to forget.
Its nothing.
Really.
But why do I hurt?
Why do I ache?
Why don't I function like normal?
Why am I scared,
When someone jumps out?
Why do I scream,
When someone appears?
Why do I cry,
When I know I am safe?
And why am I calm,
When I'm actually not?

The memory doesn't haunt.
Its not a ghostly figure,
Translucent,
Faded.
Its crisp and bright.
Like sunshine and stars.
Popping up in secret.
Making me change my mind,
My thoughts,
The way I act.
The memory IS me.
Its alive in me.
As long as I live,
So it will too.
I hurts and brings pain,
And with it I live.

Do I want it?
No.
Did I choose it?
No.
Did I picture my life like this?
No.

Where is my prince?
Where are my dreams?
Why can't I dance?
Or sing?
Or act?
Or draw?
Why am I not important?
Or talented?
Or loved?

What happened?

The hand.
The person.
The room.
The dark.
It happened.
It happened.
And its with me.
Its my life.
Forever.
Till the end.
My trauma.