Always hidden

Always hiding. Always running. Searching for a light of safety. Always reaching for love.

Dare I destroy the tears that roll down my face, now? Oh how afraid I was for many. Seeking and hoping I was wrong.

Always hiding. Finding oddness. Finding out I was lost. The emotions, even today, relive the escape. 

No longer being torn. Just finally living. Tattered but alive. The reality of experiences piercing me to my spirit. Daring to try to rip it from my soul.

Ah how I clung to my survival. Children are supposed to be joyous and carefree. Yet here I felt like that of an old man full of dispair and too many responsibilities.

The eyes of baby blue lost in the tumbling sea.

Some days I drift back to those reminders. The experiences that made me stronger today. Never do I speak of them for shame,  even today,  rings high and disgust is floored.

The dirt and layers of innocence gone. A war wages inside whether to whimper as a victim or to scream as a survivor. Yet nothing finds air to breathe.

I just pray for loss to fade. Letting the tears find tracks down freckled paths.

I keep clinging to the positive goals,  dreams. Forgetting of the sorrow that holds deep.

Smiling so the world, my friends and family never know of the truth of core shattering pain.

Ah I put on a play well. This dysfunctional person of me rings in heartache, disaster and darkness. Yet they are not strong in my life.

I see joy in pain. I see positivity in disaster and most of all I see the hope of light in all the darkness.

The difference of being a victim of tragic circumstances that pulls through. Making the life of the survivor who conquers most and triumphs in the smallest of obstacles.

Trained to hide all my disgusting truth. Trained to see past anything that assaults me. Trained to keep it all inside.

Yet as the tears continue to fall in the silence of a darkened room my mind screams comfort, a warmth. Still, I get up and move.

Pushing away from me the idea I was enraged of the truths swimming inside of me.

The next layer of my being displayed to only those who truly love and know me.

The mystery behind Mary,  once again a piece of my puzzle is revealed. A bit of weakness to strengthen someone.

We can chose to be a victim of circumstances or the survivor of life. Which is better, I cannot tell you what to do. Though for me, pick up the soul, dust off the dirt and keep going because living is winning.

Alas the tears dry. The memories of a disturbing childhood settles. My sighs begin to soften the heart and the mind closes the box and shuts the door.

A life renewed in hope. Showing today, only a few know the truth and it's scary to let out the dirt but it's a bit of a revelation. Kindness in being able to finally tell someone of horror.

To which do they choose to believe, I know not. But I gain a piece of that lost childhood,  if only for seconds in decades.  Truly a magnificent experience.