TRAUMA

By Z-Louise Poetry

Trauma burrows into fertile soil,

Mud stained hands,

Time weaves weary plans.

Cobweb clutter, Don’t move a thing,

Or you’ll disturb the microbes,

Once inhaled they get stuck inside,

A sticky mucus mess.

I cough but cannot produce a thing,

Rib-cage shudders, my lungs are hurting.

Contaminated dreams,

Triggered by familiar scenes,

Inside my soul screams,

No one can hear me falling,

Into darkness I find a corpses hand,

Tying me back to the weeping lands,

That I have tried to escape,

Time and time again,

Trauma Permeates the soul,

Clings to the walls of this house,

I am Alice shrinking small,

No potions to help me get out,

Trauma like the air I breathe,

Is everywhere.

#darkpoetsclub