Envelops and reigns
Over my trauma brains.
At 2 AM dot,
I wake up like I'm shot.
No bullets to the chest,
Yet I cannot rest.
The discomfort is unbearable,
My life suddenly unrepairable.
Rest I must,
For I don't want to turn to dust.
I must simply accept
All those who've left, and not allow myself to feel so swept.
For promises without action
Are just that—empty and hollow. I must not have a reaction.
Strange how the torrential rain of pain,
Envelops and reigns
Over my trauma brains.
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