It is March 20th
It is beautiful outside, but a thunderstorm rages in my mind.
The claps of thunder
Remind me of the cracks of leather against my skin. Electrifying my body like lightning set to metal.
The screeching of baby birds
Remind me of the screams that erupted and poured from my mouth. Hot lava tears cascading down my ashen face.
Watching my mother hush the dog
As she whimpers at the sight of a companion, reminds me of her coercing me into silence as I whimpered at the sight of help.
The neighbors tending to their gardens
Reminds me of my mother planting seeds of suffering in my heart that flower into bruises.
And when I wake in the morning my skin looks like Spring.