How could you love someone so paradoxical?
So sure and unsure, that's afraid of her own mess. A plethora of sadness and pain that's ached for years and more to come, that was birthed into trauma and is a walking example of the cycle that can't be broken.
I am afraid I'll do the same to our children. That I will make a home just like mine, that I'll embed pain into our daughters skin. I'm afraid I will rob them of their childhood, forcing them to see the world in a different manner. To ridden them into silence and a emotionless face. How do I keep our children from being like me without keeping secrets? How do I prepare our children without them growing cold? How will we keep them safe whilst letting them live? How will we love something so pure?
Shattered like porcelain at a young age.
I'm afraid I'll do the same to them.
