You lost your husband, I lost my father.
Never could be the perfect kind of daughter.
It hurts me still, maybe it always will.
There wasn’t a part of me he didn’t kill.
And I’m healing slowly, taking my time to feel.
I have to separate what’s make believe and what was real.
Trauma lens…protected me for a long while in what it concealed.
The more I learn and remember…the more I struggle to have the truth revealed.
