I don’t wish to know how much you forgive them.
I want you to truly sit at the edge of that pit of despair and truly see.
I want you to feel what happened.
How you felt, what really goes through your mind, is it truly how kind they were.
The sickening abuse, the denial, the projections aimed at you, did you really deserve it.
Held inward, our little secret.
We get on with life.
Hidden within the body of a lie.
The rage hidden, simmering under a brick wall in the gut.
The hate you project at yourself.
So kind to others though.
Why is that.
Feel, swear, break free.
If they judge, so what.
Be true to you.
The you you’ve never met yet.
Lost in who you thought you was.
They’ve gone, no going back now.
Break yourself to feel and fall.
Run, swear, kick, scream, allow.
You are safe.
Wild without fear.
Wild without destruction.
Wild without abandonment.
You are going inwards not backwards, allow.
Don’t fear what you feel.
There is no wrong.
That story was once told by someone who didn’t feel.
Hidden by a blanket of suppressed denial.
“I’m ok, be happy.”
Abandon the world’s ideal.
Lose the envelope.
Pull out the letter.
Tear it up.
Cry, scream, rage, pour.
When you’ve felt all you can.
Fall into the earth.
Released from the prison of unheard screams.
No longer enslaved by emotion.
The prison has past.
Breathe. Know. You are pure.
Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.