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CW: abuse
Later, I stare at the silent night before me —I wait as my tears dry and my bones mend themselves I know—past the shaking and the cold seeping in my skin— the trauma will come later
How I spend my days tiptoeing around creaking floorboards because one misstep will awaken the beast that will devour my soul night and day, telling me it's my fault I know—past the trenches I dig just to escape—my doom will come later
I have to go —I know I do— but the smile and warmth of this house brings me is something I cannot find in the harsh world outside I have nowhere to go —I know I do— I am hideous to look at because of the scars I bear I know—past the candles slowly dying and the fireplace filling with ashes— the cold will come later
How spend my while crying to myself to sleep and the tinkling shards of my own broken heart cutting my palms open I let my blood stain the unwashable sheets —memory serves me best as it refuse to let go of the hurt and the bad times spent I know—past the masked smile and the life I'm trying so hard to lead —death will come later
