Driven to tears/Angie Kirkham

I have hidden the little girl who was hurt. I had to put her away to keep her safe.

I had to lock her away for her own well being

I had to shut her away because no one else would listen.


Sometimes still she cries out and pulls at my sleeve.

Sometimes she pushes her way into the forefront of my mind and refuses to be ignored, stomping her foot.

Sometimes she begs for answers that that I still don’t have.

I hold her for a while, just letting her be.


She screams about the time she never got to live.

She rails against the man who stole her innocence, never asking permission.

She screeches about how he took the light from her eyes.

I let her say everything she needs to, just letting her get it all out.


She grows quiet and sinks back into the hidden place.

I am almost 49. I am chronically ill with a very rare disease that pisses me off daily.  I am attempting to be here now, even if here really sucks sometimes.
I raised two strong daughters who make me jealous and proud. I have a grandson who is my laughter.
Writing helps me breathe. Photography is meditation. I read a lot. I am outspoken. I trust few.

I blog at Virago

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