trauMA Dump

Photo by Simon Hurry on Unsplash



I am quick to be offended.
Slow to forgive.
I have a persecution complex almost as big as my god complex.
I stay angry. Stay protecting those who never asked me to.
I'm fighting new battles to make up for the ones I lost.
There's heaviness in the memories but also in the things I forgot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I never claimed to be unbreakable.
All these cracks you see are fracture lines.
Not by design,
they're warning signs.

I'm a glass cannon--
anything can be my fodder.
You thought I was a bad son;
I'm an even worse daughter.

Fragile like a baby,
like an egg just laid,
like a hand grenade.
This is just a bad dream, maybe.

I've shattered into a thousand pieces.
I'll shatter into a thousand more.
I scream into the void and you scream back:
"What are you so angry for?"

"You're always out to prove yourself
to a judge and jury unaware.
You're making your case
and exorcising ghosts no longer there."

"Your self-assured destruction is avoidable,
yet you remain a martyr.
Victim and perpetrator,
you wear your crimes like belt and garter."

--------------------------------------------------------

I'm not sorry. I can't control it.
Why should I?
They didn't.
I was helpless, weak. 
Not anymore. Or so I'd like to think.
I'm helpless to change the past. I'm weak to anything that hurts me. 
Everything hurts me. 
Why do I feel everything? 
I'm unable to even control my emotions.
I don't feel in control. So why do I have to be the one?
The one that fixes this mess.
If I lash out enough times, will it fix the past?
If I burn another bridge, will I be cured?
Is it possible to cure this type of hurt? It's not just pain. It's not just sadness or grief or loss. It's a deep wound of being violated, ignored, hated, abused. It's the kind of hurt that creates righteous anger. 

If my hurt were a church, my righteous anger would be the crucifix I carry, and I shall be the priest who delivers the wrongdoers from their sins. Repent, you fucking dogs. Get on your knees and pray to the same person who saved me.
No one.
FUCKING NO ONE
saved me.
Now no one will save you, too. 

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