Fun Mirror Inner Child

Where is the magic of an inner child who trudges through emotional warfare?

I’m looking for her, rummaging among the rubble she’s collected inside.

Each time she chooses silence instead of her own voice she takes a chunk of the world into her hands and crumbles it.

Using the pressure built in the small moments of denying herself to feel the words unspoken pulverize between her hands.

She’s covered in dust now, adding each small moment to the piles of ruins around her.

I see the trenches she’s built, weapons collected.

That small girl is well prepared to defend herself, but she fears the taste of going on the offense…being the first to attack.

Unwilling to be vulnerable and scared to enjoy the taste of her own anger.

She brews and builds, collecting damage to herself despite her dedication to building defenses.