My insides spill out
Like my belly was cut in two
You might think my injuries not serious
But you don't see the wounds they reopened
You don't see the true depth of your actions
Safety, security, trust
These are all things that dont't just come to me
I have to fight for them
I have fought for them
I've left therapy sessions broken and bleeding
Limping from the wounds finally felt
Reopened so they can heal
So when you create new wounds
The cut deeper
The dig into my flesh like a rusted knife that I have felt so many times before
Don't make me feel it from you
Don't minimize the harm
Help me heal
Or get the hell out fo my way
About the Creator
Karen LaRue
I am Karen LaRue (She/Her) a North Carolina writer of poetry and witchy things of most sorts. I belive life is full of wonder and we don't always stop to see it. Taking the time to look and listen makes life worth living!
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