deep inside

I tell myself that it’s my fault because I don’t understand how you could have done that to me. And even now I wrestle with it every night. And every minute I’m awake. It tugs at my mind and sits in the dark corners. It covers my heart and becomes a part of the beating. This is no longer something that happened. This is me.

Broken. Bruised. Damaged. Left. Angry.

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