…the sound of lifes clock is ticking very loud at the moment!

I hate waiting.
It’s painful to breath as time passes by when you have to wait in the midst of terror…
terror that grips your soul and freezes you
within the moments that brought
heartache and brokenness to this little girl who is trapped within.

My mind is burning with the overwhelming flashes of his hands
and these triggers that take me back to his sick games.
The sound of the ticking clock not only reminds me
of how present time is running out
but also of the many times I heard the repetitive tick,tick,tick.
…as the timer was set for hell to rise up and the child forced to partake
in the rituals of his torment
all while the lingering background noise of the ticking clock reminded her
that it won’t last forever
but forever she will be reminded.

A small war is burning between eternal sleep
and a courageous child who wants to be set free.
I should cry, but my body is reminded of the torment that comes
when the tears fall.
A warm tear is the perfect temperature to heal my wounded heart.
I think he knew that, therefore tears were never acceptable.
Healing was never allowed.
Just the slow drowning of the spirit of a young girl
full of life…
full of joy…
full of adventure.

Going back is hard.
The anxiety that comes in the mundane things…
The smell of cinnamon…
The sudden change in temperature…
The perfect shade of yellow…
A young girl with long curly brown hair.
My body refuses to sleep
Yet it refuses to go forward and let her heal.
It’s in the midst of the night when the haunting peeks
I often wonder if there is a world between heaven and hell
And if so… I wonder if that’s where he lie…
Completely and happily in control of this shattering life.

~L

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