But what you look at hides what you can’t see.
Because the person looking at you hides the cold carcass and debris.
The little child that is inside.
The part that dreams of laughter and playing with barbie dolls outside.
But she has practiced fantasy and make believe.
Because truth is harder than fiction and ignoring it is her reprieve.
The memories vague but not forgotten.
A flurry of thoughts shoved to the back in hopes it that it will be forgotten.
It’s a maze
From what you see to what is.
So locking out the weak and fainthearted is easier than letting them in.
But no one can know..
Cuz the weight of that truth is heavier than the lies that have been told.
Ever present on the inside.
The shame and pain she tries to forget linked to the horror of those nights.
The way He pursues the heart.
Jealously He comes to snatch from the grave and mend the broken heart.
It’s powerful and strong.
And when there is no will to try His comfort keeps her holding on.
Take the pain away.
When others get tired of hearing it, He listens every day.
To show her there is a way.
That even when no one else knows her angst His peace is just a prayer away.
-photo credit @Stephaniereneeart