I don't talk about
My past.
I don't talk about
The things I remember.
I don't talk about
Why it haunts me at night.I don't tell anyone
What's on my mind.
Because it's a lot of memories,
Of tight hiding places,
Deafening yells,
Bruises and blood.I don't reminisce
About my childhood.
Because nothing good
Came from it.
I'm covered in scars,
Inside and out.To those around me,
My past is cloudy;
Shrouded in mystery.
Because I don't talk about
The things that keep me up at night,
The things that steal my breath.For a long time,
I blocked it out.
So much that I forgot.
Almost like it didn't even happen;
But the unspoken truth,
It that is did.The effects haunt me.
I can't trust,
I lose my breath to anxiety,
The memories claw their way out
From the place I had them trapped.
And my whole life has been a result.So here I sit,
With my own screams
Echoing inside my mind.
With the image of my beaten body
Flashing behind my eyes.So each night
Each day
It haunts me.
My unspoken truth.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Believes Me
PoetryJust a book of random poetry, short stories, and whatever else I felt the need to write. Enjoy I guess :^) Completed.