As I tell my story my face begins to change. My voice continues at the same pace but my face is not the same. My story reveals pain that was locked away. It revives the dead memories.
On the inside it feels like fire is shooting from my soul. To you it just looks like I’m crying. The wounds of life last longer than those of flesh. My heart couldn’t take the pain so I laid these feelings to rest.
With every part of my lips more truth is spilled. I cannot contain the facts. They run from my throat. My words escape and search for the nearest heart to rest on. The pain that my story holds supports the burden of others.
It feels good when the tears don’t hurt anymore