A twisted and gnarled oak tree and a mind as moldable as clay.
I thought I was an angel only to look into the mirror and see a naive monster.
Thinking a positive quote could fix depression.
I would drown myself in the thought of others reactions.
I fell from the sky and straight into fire.
Magical thinking.
A beautiful mask for the psychological horrors beneath.
Being gaslit for being too sensitive.
And then being kept from the truth, only to then be blamed for being naive,
If you don’t tell me, I won’t know.
A child is not a secret keeper.
The lock and the key are the same. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
Underneath the gnarled oak tree, I wept.
The sun peeked through the clouds.
As it warmed my cold face, I knew it would be alright.