I am but one man,
moving through the world
like something forgotten.
Not feared, not chased—
just left behind.

They called me a lone wolf
like it meant strength,
like solitude was a choice.
But I was never brave.
Just lonely.
Just left to figure it out
on my own.

My father raised his voice
and his hands—
storm after storm,
tearing through the halls
like I was the thing that broke him.

I used to hide in closets,
curled into corners,
holding my breath
like silence might save me.
The dark became a shield.
My own heartbeat,
my only sound.

He never hit me with his fists alone.
His words struck deeper—
called me too soft,
too needy,
too much of everything
no one wants.

And I believed him.
Even now,
his voice lives in my thoughts,
louder than any kindness
I’ve tried to collect since.

I went searching,
you know—
in the arms of anyone
who looked at me like I was something.
I gave pieces of myself away
just to feel wanted,
even for a night.

But they always left.
Or I did.
Because when they got too close,
I remembered—
that boy in the closet,
waiting for someone to open the door
and find him worth saving.

I never learned to stay.
Never learned to trust
that love could be soft,
that hands could hold
without hurting.

Only the animals stay.
They curl into me
without needing answers.
They don’t pull away
when I go quiet.
They just stay.
And that’s more than most.

Now I hide in new ways—
behind silence,
behind tired smiles,
behind a life that looks
just okay enough
to not ask questions.

But I’m still hiding.
Still aching.
Still wondering
if there’s anyone who won’t flinch
at the weight I carry.

Tonight, the quiet is heavy.
And I am tired
of being alone
in a world that keeps moving
without ever noticing
I needed to be held.

Call it weakness.
Call it memory.
Call it what’s left
of a heart that’s still breaking
for something
it never got to have.

Rabid dog,
On a leash,
I forged the chain,
All for their peace,
Rabid dog.

Inside my fragile mind,
thoughts swirl like a whirlwind,
tumbling and crashing
as flashbacks build stress and fear,
and I am not strong enough,
as I plead for the old me again.

Yet I pause,
searching for the silence,
as I challenge my senses.
I let it all settle,
like dust finding rest
on an old sunlit
cobwebbed windowsill.

It takes patience
like pulling tangled linen
from messy cupboards,
slowly unravelling and refolding
all of the trauma and pain,
arranging them carefully
back onto their shelves again.

Processing 
one
thought
at
a
time.

What if this trauma reveals
no flaws, but stories
with each courageous step forward
on this discovery journey,
each moment a lesson,
blunting the sharp edges
of my harsh self-judgment.

A kind hand reaches out
talking and listening
as the healing cognitive shifts begin,
and the storm clouds slowly part,
revealing warm sunlight,
teaching me at last
that it is okay to feel.

Step by step,
we build upon the foundations
of the past and future,
finding anchors,
to ground my scattered thoughts,
as I learn to breathe easy again.

From my traumatic moments,
hope emerges from an open book
as my life turns a page,
revealing a fresh chapter
and a newfound strength
as my vulnerability now stands
free and fiercely proud.

We gather up
the scattered pieces,
and walls crumble down,
as an understanding dawns.
Life's chaos grows quieter
when faced with the truth,
and in each moment I found resilience
to this part of my challenged life.

Together,
We rode through the storm
to find the calm within its eye,
where clarity begins,
the heart and mind unite
and I finally realise
that we are all worthy
of finding peace.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Today I stood in the fire, my mind and heart torn with stress, my spirit weary.
And in one moment, someone said the one word I needed to hear, "God."
My weary mind, battling with PTSD and OCD, calmed instantly.
Your peace enveloped me and carried me above the waves, back to shelter, back to grace.
I have never asked for an easy life; I have asked for grace to persevere.
I have asked for grace to show others kindness when my flesh is anything but peaceful, when war has taken me over.
In your wisdom, you have given me grace.
Thank you isn't enough, though maybe if I leave that here on this page, perhaps tonight it will suffice.
-Rhia Clay