#trauma prose

[alexconcerning]

i want more books where everyone is traumatised, morally exhausted, and still trying to write poetry on the front lines

[andyettheywrite]

One time, i looked at my reflection and saw her staring back at me and it scared me away from the mirror for three weeks. One time, i cried so hard i felt the earth tremble in my wake and threaten to destroy everything i was keeping from crumbling. One time, life kicked me so fucking hard in the chest that i coughed up blood for hours, desperately trying to breathe easy. I have never known softness. not really, and never for long. but i was not made for the brutality of this world. i was not made for clenched fists and bruises. i was not made for battle cries and spitting blood. she was the most unholy thing i ever encountered.  she was demons and terror and every monster under the bed. she gave me nothing but war with no promise of returning home. but they gave me something new to believe in. something tender and delicate, and something to place my faith in. they are radiant, and they are passionate, and they are someone ive been searching for in the dark. there is trauma and grief that has settled in my bones, some ghosts i will never be able to outrun, but there is something soft in here yet. — s.k.