It’s never to late

Something magical happens when you can give your Demons a name. I’ve known mine for years but had been affraid to speak it’s name. Abandonment. Lost little boy riding his big wheel down the highway. Cold and shivering from the river that sucked me away, fearful clinging to quarry walls as the gravel started to give way, I prayed so hard that night. That same night in the high chair I became aware of who I was and who everyone was. Strange to have such feelings without words to give them. As I sat tou read the book and I new the words were wrong. How were you to know I understood everything. All I wanted was love I was a baby, I needed you and you were never there. The flat spot on my head reminds me of countless hours of nothing but laying down and needing.. Now a lifetime later, I know what I need but it’s to late. At times I wonder if I have the love to give, to myself let alone another. In the end I’m still of the mind we choose how much energy we give to these demons of our past. This week I learned your name, tomorrow I begin to heal. Good night world until we meet again.



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