blind to who I was! Poem, by Friendship, at My poetic side

Did you ever feel like a garbage can?

A dumping ground for all you contain?

After forty long years, a lifetime's slow span,

Unfolding the deepest, unburdening pain.

Forty years on the couch, my soul laid quite bare,

Each wound, every whisper, each blossoming fear.

Then, a sudden pronouncement, hung cold in the air:

"You're hypersensitive," piercing each year.

This is the truth, after all that was spun?

When "sensitive," "drama," were spat like a curse?

Labels like shackles, when healing was done,

Names that made no sense, making things worse.

I was just me, authentically, truly I'd claimed,

Baring my essence, hoping you'd find.

Yet, no compassion or insight proclaimed,

Just an attack, leaving understanding behind.

How could you judge what you failed to perceive?

The intricate wiring, the depth of my core?

Do you know this feeling, to utterly grieve

For a trust so betrayed, right down to the floor?

A hypersensitive heart, desperate to soar,

Met by a blindness, a wall in the mind.

How blind is the healer, who stands at the door,

And cannot see truth, leaving me trapped and maligned?

Forty long years, for this desolate dawn,

A lifetime of trust, now shattered and gone.

I was always being me!