The Box in My Attic

In the depths of my mind, an attic resides,

A box hidden away, where secrets reside.

Years of anguish and pain, tightly concealed,

Until one fateful moment, when wounds were revealed.

The box in my attic, a ticking time bomb,

Filled with memories of abuse, like a haunting psalm.

A father's hatred, a family's disdain,

Echoing through the silence, inflicting endless pain.

The weight of my truth, my identity suppressed,

Concealed by the chains of "don't ask, don't tell" at best.

A journey in the military, fought with hidden scars,

Battling both enemies abroad and internal wars.

The explosion came fiercely, my heart torn asunder,

As the box in my attic burst with thunder.

Mental breakdown, the shattering of my soul,

As the weight of it all took an enduring toll.

But amidst the chaos, a spark of resilience ignited,

Within the wreckage, a spirit remained undaunted.

For I am not defined by the abuse or disdain,

Nor by the battles fought, the internal pain.

I rise from the ashes, reclaiming my space,

Embracing my truth, with love as my grace.

The scars of combat may linger and ache,

But they're symbols of strength, not weaknesses to forsake.

In the attic of my mind, I rebuild anew,

With compassion and healing, my spirit grew.

For I am more than the past that tried to break,

A survivor, a warrior, with resolve at stake.

I find solace in speaking my truth, unafraid,

Creating a family chosen, where love will pervade.

And within this new narrative, I find my worth,

A story of resilience, a testament to rebirth.

So let this poem be a declaration, a plea,

To embrace those with internal battles unseen.

For the explosion that shattered my sanctuary,

Led me to discover my own strength and bravery.