Was unable to express myself verbally while in trauma therapy so i turned to writing.
The essence of who I am is quietly and calmly waiting to emerge as I come from the feeling of numbness and pain.
As I feel the sweat and my tears drip form my body I am uncertain what I feel as the years vanish inside and slither away from me.
I must pray to never again have to feel that way.
Yet ,if I don’t reach out and start the climb I won’t be able to stand atop my roof look down below and see my pile of proof that I am who I want to be, without a ball and chain stopping me from being me.
I made it to the top of the roof, I see the piles as I look down and as I look up I see the clouds that look so soft as cotton balls and marsh mellow puffs.
Letting my tears drip the piles below become soaked and no one but me will know the sorrow inside that l hid not from you but from me.
With the match lit I see the flame and watch as I burn the pain inside of me out. It is gone all the pain, and paper that stopped me from rediscovering the essence I have always called me.
I am and will continue to be me and who I want to be.