Count the times,
the buttons pressed,
the lacey-seeded regrets
I pressed them down,
shut tight my eyes
I conceived it to be,
concerning only for tomorrow.
It bit me back hard,
even though,
I shoved with all my might.
I pressed down the memories,
my honesty, my quirks.
If I could recount all the times
I’ve shut down, reset, and rebounded,
I’d be gifted.
Accepting, I’m letting it flow.
Trauma disguises himself in cool shades,
an attitude and shame.
3 responses to “Disguised”
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