Trauma is a fickle beast
Emotions enmeshed in the furthest reaches of our soul
To intellectualize the hurt is to allow it to burrow deeper within
The only way out is through
And so I felt them
The sinking pit of despair
The uncontrollable laughter
The sudden gush of tears
The constricting of my rib cage
The tightness in my bones
My body felt and I heaved in vain attempting to breath through it all as though I was birthing my own renewal
But the thing is trauma sticks to itself like clingwrap
Extracting one pain drudged up a thousand insistence of suffering
I carried on and plucked them all out
But packing up all the pain meant leaving behind the damage
Self-hatred is sitting in a corner with people pleasing