Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

Sometimes we say, "my heart hurts," and we mean that we are in emotional pain. Of course that pain is very real, but I have had medication adjustments in the past few weeks and my physical heart is pounding differently. I feel it race some times; other times it just beats harder. I am not worried; I am confident my body will start working properly soon. (a few weeks - I hope not longer). Still it is uncomfortable, and I try to steady myself - to go a little slow, to not do things that might agitate me emotionally. It is hard to watch yourself so much, to be careful, to keep a buffer around you so that you don't get poked or tipped by others. It takes work, mental-emotional, and that can eventually be physically tiring. I simply want an easy life, simple days, happy times. Does anyone get that? Or is that a fantasy? I still believe that someone must, but those people probably don't care about others. They isolate themselves. They don't listen to the...

Medication serves its purpose, Intense therapy undertaken, Stabilizes serotonin, Keeps a hurting soul unshaken. Little pills, you are my friend, Faithful you help me to survive. Able to love, to give, to know. With you, I am today alive. Time comes when your missions complete. A healed vessel- into - I return. In therapy -placisity Of a new brain, she'd duly earn. By chems it found a place to leap, Forged pathways in concrete walls, In Turn, by turn, the drill went on Angels carried her through the falls. By faith, she tries to be unmed, Is it the time to have parole? Bravely she treads deeper waters. Trusting to dance - freeing her soul. By faith I walk feeling my way, Bending, leaning on God again. He led me through haunted darkness, Surely He can thru times so thin. Sweating, tossing, breathing, beating, Tortured, rapid re-runs - she dreams, By day she delicately chose To keep away from life's extremes. A smile, a hug, a lau...

Plink, plink the pill goes down again. Routine, patterns never broken. Chemist keepers served their purpose, Sentenced -when can I be woken? Happy chatter, silly - returns the child. Un-numbed, sedate constrained her nature. She lives within, waiting to come out, But, what form or person is the wager. Architecture holds her steel frame. Contorted by pain - intensely trained, By enterology she survives, Another day, steps ingrained. Hear me hurting - silence by design. So much easier to handle a mime. Perform charade, pleasing the crowd. Squeezing her life, repeating the crime. Back-bending to conform to others, Dishonors her spirit and soul, Year after year, held firmly restraint, Don't the chemicals take their tole? Who is at the helm, master in control, Sovereignty knows her schematics. Can she ever from elements by free? Post-traumatic Hippocratics.