I always thought time would heal these wounds,
Emotional trauma from years past,
Forgotten by the abuser but never  by the victim.
We play pretend,
Acting as though all is well, like a well rehearsed scene from a hollywood film.
But a stiffness has set in and the take no longer looks believable,
The director calls cut!
Unaware of the fatigue and mental strain his little puppets are under, trapped within their contractual silence.
There is no expression of their pain, they are not reflected in this adaption.
So here I am drinking on a thursday, because as the bottle becomes emptied of liquor, it quickly fills again with the fear, anxiety and confusion that will always be repressed.