You ask me, why I flinch,
At every sudden movement,
That I don't see coming.
Like I expect to be hit.
It's a leftover reaction,
like A residual tic.
A predetermined mechanism Physically attempting to defend My physical self.
For at the hands of another
My body has been beaten,
been broken been battered.
My heart has been shattered my spirit through and through
has had it.
Now I have to,
Sit here And explain to you,
Why I sit with my back to the wall Of every room,
and why I'm afraid of my own shadow.
And how if the volume is loud enough,
Even at laughter I cower
Because my mind doesn't decipher
between sad ,happy or mad laughter.
The ptsd That envelopes me Is like an unseen deformity
Of my brain,
When I'm triggered,
I'm stuck in the moment of my trauma,
And I'm reliving them again.
So when I hide my face,
And tuck in my chin,
Shudder as your fingertips brush against my skin.
It comes from someplace deep within.
Somewhere between the past
And how long before it happens again?
I know you say,
How could I think this of you?
But, he said he would never too!
Each and every time his fist Or open hand Made contact with my bare skin,
I felt all at once
The utter shock and total disbelief .
Immediate denial,
That this broken girl was me.
It seems I had to learn this lesson repeatedly,
So when you ask me why I'm a jumpy ball of Nervous energy,
And why I'm always flinching?
Because my ptsd has crippled me
And this is what is left of me,
Existing in the fear
that is my reality,
There is no more room
For
Empty I love yous
Only final goodbyes
Permanent and absolute.
As is the pain,
I try so hard in vain
To disguise
But the truth is
I cannot hide or wish to deny
A truth ,that is such a sad truth
But a truth nonetheless
That is mine.
And I don't have it in me
even one single inch
of doubtful benefit.
So the reality is,
This is the answer to your question,
The reason why I flinch.
