Inner Child
My inner child cries out,
a voice I buried deep.
For years, I looked away,
her pain ignored,
just as I was -
left alone in the quiet,
where no one answered.
She’s been screaming,
her anguish constant,
but I kept moving,
as if distance could numb,
as if silence could erase
the scars carved into me.
Now, I hear her.
Her voice is raw,
full of everything I tried to forget.
But she won’t let me forget -
she’s relentless,
and I am forced to listen.
I see her now,
a child lost in darkness,
reaching for something
that was never there.
And I stand here,
wondering if I can even help,
or if the damage is too deep.
The pain is still there,
but her voice, once muted,
refuses to be silent.
We confront the past,
not in search of healing,
but because there’s no other choice.
And sleep remains elusive.
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