Battling relentlessly inside, past memories collide
over and over with no repast.
Touching heavily, slamming into heart-felt sorrow,
totaling sums of past memories.
Turning, twisting, scraping down the road of recovery,
discovering fragments along the way that don't always
fit.
Hurting internally, a little person loved once, maybe,
does not recall love, only the self-hatred of abuse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem