And as my final act of finishing my therapy homework Iāll upload some of it and try to give my brain some rest.
A parallel universe
Feelings and pictures
are locked away in photo albums.
By now
I know who is at fault.
Stillā
I get nauseous when I turn the pages.
And I would never want to go back
to that time.
But sometimes at night
I close my eyes
and there is a version of myself
in a parallel universe.
A universe
where no one would lay a hand on her.
Where she is full of joy
and happiness.
Where no one treats her
like a toy
until they get tired of her.
A universe
where someone protects her
in the best way
the world has ever seen.
But they arenāt you
and she isnāt me.
And Iām getting tired
of hoping
thereās a life
where I can just be.
Why canāt I just be
that version of me?
Why only
in a parallel universe?
