Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for mature content.
Drum. Drum. Drum.
My heart is quiet.
With that comes discomfort.
What do I do with that?
My mind races.
Coming up with a way to fix it.
Picks my brain for forgotten anxiety.
What should come up now to stir the peace that surrounds?
Praise from those around me.
A new found purpose.
Leaving my old life where it was.
With folded hands and bent knees, pray.
What do I say?
Beaten and bruised by age four.
Sexually molested for six years.
Now, at twenty-four.
God, you want me to work on rehabilitating sex offenders.
Do I belong there?
Everyday is a trigger.
I watch them die a little on the inside as time passes.
Slowly morphing to the system.
Never alone to figure things out on their own.
Will they be successful on the outside?
Life is a crazy round-about way.
I never imagined myself here.
Death is something I envisioned more than a few times.
Through the darkness, I have stepped into purpose.
No more questioning the pain I hide.