Childhood wounds

“Never open old wounds they say”

Wounds are made to heal themselves

One day  pain will go away.

It’s not a physical wound in trying to heal.

It’s the abuse, wanting the rope to tie a noose.

That’s the hidden agenda I conceal

“Life’s not fair they say”

And I don’t like argue

But how could you say that when my history belongs to me and not you

Trauma and pain and regret all thoughts I ponder day and night and then I feel all the fright of childhood again and again and again

And all my therapist can say is “breathe and count to ten”

But I’m sick of counting to 10 to relinquish the panic and the fear and the anxiety and the tears

I still think to myself “why can’t I heal it’s been 7 years?”

Then my stomach sinks and I’m on the brink of senseless morbidity and demises.

And all that she had to say was

“You’ve never suffered like I did”

It’s the trauma olympics

Who’s has it worse and who’s tried harder to fix it

Maybe this wound I cannot fix

It’s scarred on my body

This fear I cannot kick.