Nature/Nurture /Trauma/Torture
The trees slow dance with the breeze, they sway,
In birdsong, the gossip of a brand-new day
The sun yawns across the sky, her lazy endurance,
The cycle of life, her golden assurance.
But trauma, my path, with its silent tread
The sun left behind what hope lay ahead
The pain is the breath between prayers in my head
Words dark and ugly, ignored, unsaid.
The Static of my memoires, fragment, out of tune,
A garden of flowers, with nowhere to bloom.
