unhealedtrauma

Unhealed traumas

It’s like you bandage your wound

But carry the scars forever

Wounds might heal

Pain stays however

You repress your thoughts.

But hear the voices in your head

Wailing in agony

Every night as you lay in your bed

You could be dancing with the ghosts

The ones who inflicted bruises on your bones

Unhealed traumas

It’s like screaming with no words

That one busy day or a lonely night

Stands there; everything you tried to hide

Knocking at your door

Weeping on the floor

You wanted to smile, but you couldn’t

No more.

It manifests in loud laughter

Or silent cries

When you’re unable to say something

Despite having chaos in your mind

It’s the little moments where you zone out

Or lose track of time

When you cannot remember

What yesterday felt like

I don’t need them

I don’t need you

It’s another way the trauma

Lives in you

Unhealed traumas

Doesn’t come out in big waves

But the tears that you shed

Over the things

That doesn’t really make sense

Or the times you said

You were perfectly fine

But felt empty inside

So when you forgive yourself

for the sins

Then why the mirror

Reflects your guilt?

-wordsbyroha

#repression #unhealedtrauma

I wish you would please listen
To these words I have to say,
Don't search for a response
Just sit and listen anyway.

Try not to take my voice
And find in it a place to blame,
Or seek of a rebuttal
To make it about you again.

I wish that just this once
You'd clear out all your other thoughts,
Make room to hear my pain
Find out the reasons I feel lost.

These words aren't meant to hurt
But give instead a sense of why,
Each time in which we talk
Tears damn near flood into my eyes.

I wish there wasn't fear
Milling in droves within my heart,
Afraid when I do speak
You'll forget words right from the start.

Then I'll have to repeat
Oftentimes twice or many more,
My voice soon tends to fade
Slapped in the face by your slammed door.

I wish you didn't know
About so many others' lives,
Or of their intimate details
Which cut through me like burning knives.

Cause when you're asked about
Details in which pertain to me,
You say that you don't know
Then yet again I feel unseen.

This final wish I pray
Would be a gift priceless from thee,
Not built of dollar signs
It'd be your gift of listening.

By: Debra Brent
09/17/2021

#iwish #poet #Poetry #MentalHealthAwareness #Depression #ChronicDepression #Trauma #Childhoodtrauma #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #PTSD #CPTSD #Anxiety #SuicidalThoughts #unhealedtrauma #EmotionalNeglect #abandonment #invisible #Fear #Selfcare #Introvert #Grief #Healing #hurt #ImListening