A poem about trauma

 You say I’m important, you say the words. 

Do you mean them? Or are they a facade? 

Who are you? and what am I to you?

Is this a game, merely to earn your fame? 

when does it end, is there an end? Am I to make an end? 

How you truly feel, I’ll never know. 

Every day is like another show. 

You pull and pull, trying to pull me close. 

But what you desire isn’t love, its fear. 

Fear so that I’ll never go away, but if you could look at my heart, you’ll see I’ve already strayed. 

How could I not, with the words you use. 

You bash, you fight, you hurt, you call them rules. 

They’re not rules, they’re lines. Lines that mustn’t be crossed.

What if I cross, what will you do? 

Dare I try, dare I offend you?

Will you hurt me worse, is there a worse? 

Maybe there is, but I can’t tell.

I’m drowning in your sea of lies, these webs you weave to lock me up inside. 

Where is my voice, why can’t I find it? 

I’m mute, you defined me. 

Will I ever know what it’s like to be free, to speak what I feel, to just be me? 

Will this pain go away, this trauma I feel?

Or am I destined to hold it, running like a hamster on a spinning wheel?

I’m dazed, I’m confused, where am I, who am I?

These are the questions I’ve held inside. 

No more, I’m done, I’m coming alive. 

I’m becoming myself, I’m raising my voice.

I’m finally realizing I have a choice.