To think of the past, can feel torturous. It hurts to remember. Yet the mind just drifts into despair. Then the tears rise. The pain cascades down. So damaged. Whoever will love a mess like me? The second guesses. More tears. My pain leaks through to the world. Why can't I live without the shame of before? As my tears pool, see me, quite the fool. As my mind cascades.

© SusanPS125