My name is a trigger, shooting me back to childhood harder than my father’s fists. Child of a child and sociopathic racist, the home is a desert and it’s full of land mines and egg shells, just waiting for a tiny stumble. Neighbouring blind eyes leave only black eyes for the little girl they refuse to see. Scars raised and pink are raw on my mind, battle wounds left leaking after the bullets have long been removed. Where’s my medal? I’m a survivor of my father’s war but nobody remembers me, no one wore a daisy chain to mark the day he finally retreated. Now I’m standing here in the aftermath of his chaos, bloodied with my mind and heart in raw ribbons; hanging from where my innocence once incubated. There is no justice or unconditional love, this he taught me along with how to kill a man and mount a Union Jack! I’m still loaded. I can’t raise my white flag, it’s saturated in the darkness of my memories and my body is heavy with the armour he soldered to my skin. The only compensation for my damages is knowing one day there will be a world where he doesn’t exist. He’ll be just another shadow in the night; a frightening concept but powerless against my beating heart for I refuse to have her silenced. My inner child plays drums in rebellion and I’m happy to march for her; Never forget but never surrender.
My name is a trigger, shooting me back to childhood harder than my father’s fists.

Child of a child and sociopathic racist, the home is a desert and it’s full of land mines and egg shells, just waiting for a tiny stumble.
Neighbouring blind eyes leave... trauma stories
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willowcornellco
willowcornellco Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   8 months ago
Armistice

My name is a trigger, shooting me back to childhood harder than my father’s fists. Child of a child and sociopathic racist, the home is a desert and it’s full of land mines and egg shells, just waiting for a tiny stumble. Neighbouring blind eyes leave only black eyes for the little girl they refuse to see. Scars raised and pink are raw on my mind, battle wounds left leaking after the bullets have long been removed. Where’s my medal? I’m a survivor of my father’s war but nobody remembers me, no one wore a daisy chain to mark the day he finally retreated. Now I’m standing here in the aftermath of his chaos, bloodied with my mind and heart in raw ribbons; hanging from where my innocence once incubated. There is no justice or unconditional love, this he taught me along with how to kill a man and mount a Union Jack! I’m still loaded. I can’t raise my white flag, it’s saturated in the darkness of my memories and my body is heavy with the armour he soldered to my skin. The only compensation for my damages is knowing one day there will be a world where he doesn’t exist. He’ll be just another shadow in the night; a frightening concept but powerless against my beating heart for I refuse to have her silenced. My inner child plays drums in rebellion and I’m happy to march for her; Never forget but never surrender.

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