childhood trauma

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When I was a child, I made a wish. It was a stupid wish. I didn't wish to have powers or be a hero. or even to be liked. Though i didn't have any of those things either. I had wished to be remembered.
Drip Drop Drip Drop Drip Drop Daddy’s nose is bleeding again I wonder why he always has so many nosebleeds?
Time is passing, still procrastinating.    With much to endeavor, won’t last forever.   Dream so wild, yet aspects mild.    One moment in time, A thoughtless rhyme.  
She could spread her wings with the birds and the bees and follow the sun as they became one Rays of fire soaking through her pores and wrapped around her bones it lifts her up higher than everyone else 
Growing up. It’s a task to be reckoned with. As a young child, I went through a very traumatic experience. As I got a little older, I wanted people to feel sorry for me because of what I went through.
growing was slow, then sudden like tectonic plates drawing near, then clicking together, leaving a trail of collapsed buildings in its wake-
To the girl who could memorize lines and perform them on stage in front of hundreds.  I beg of you to come back.  Come back to me, whose fears and anxiety drive me more than my passion. 
Bleeding, crying and hiding. Scared of the train that went past your house at exactly midnight, but really just scared of everything. You were supposed to run wild and build blanket forts.
A tremble Flick of the wrist and it is hidden Deep seeded fear Cropping up as a crippled beast Broken child Shaking slightly, hurt Though it's been so long since the pain
Didn't start out this way, There was love, Laughter, happiness, Many crazy days.   Hedge jumping, apple scrumping, Door knocking, Brooking jumping, Hatton visiting, Kiss chasing.  
WHY?
She laughs because while you see bullets She sees rain persistance is Her umbrella  the whispers of pain and doubt urge Her forward.   The terrain mocks Her ankles She groans as She slips
I was told my voice didn’t matter in a jungle of lions  That my efforts were child’s play and I should go sit with the little kids  That if I ever wanted to own anything, I should call myself the ruler of nothing 
Dear Trauma, my constant companion, We got together ten years ago it's hard to forget. You help me, remind me to be careful. Not to trust men who smile so kindly. If I have you with me
Dearest Sister, Oh, how you have suffered. Child of infidelity, war, and poverty-- Abandoned by those you loved most, By those who were supposed to love you back.
Dear Layla I know you have been through a lot in the past 24 years You’ve experience trauma that you believe you will never recover from You’ve been abused, verbally and physically
This is our last chance to grieve Dear Lord, I was only thirteen The host of trepidation freshly forgot, You coerced forgiveness from fester and rot  
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