Processing

It’s like I’ve been fighting

My whole life.

Peeling back the motives of instruction,

To rid the grasp of those closest to me.

It hurts, it pains,

To see you trapped.

The coercion of empathy,

Somehow sat well with me.

I needed who?

Scared of every corner that cut.

You declined each tear of mine,

And you defined each fear in time.

You shut away the colors of my face,

In order to insist you keep your pace.

And you never heard my words,

In succinctly sporadic shivering supplies.

It’s always been assumed that I’d come along.

But from all the ways you instructed,

It took me many years to today,

To understand it was never me but you.

And I know this may hurt,

And this may pain,

But you need a hug.

And I’m not sure it’s from me.