Talk is cheap but here’s the cost

 

Why do I lay my trauma out for you to look?

I do it so you can stand and stare,

Wondering how we even got there,

Figuring out how I am still right here.

 

I tell my tale reworking it every time,

So that the impact gets better every time,

I relive the torture just so I can refine the talk every time,

When I’m done people question why I keep doing it every time.

 

It might stunt your recovery, might make worse,

You are not that important, your story doesn’t matter,

Thought banging round in my mind,

Trying to get any hook in it can find.

 

I might not be important but I am to some,

I’d still be happy if it was only one,

I have found friends in the worst of my trauma,

Ride or die friends I never thought I’d have,

But for each one I’m eternally glad.

 

I tell my story for those who can’t,

For those who pass or those who still suffer,

For those left defeated with no hope,

And for those who can give words to this rope.

 

The trauma like a noose squeezing out the life,

But we shan’t give in we will fight,

On the stage or the call I bare my trauma,

So there will be less mes tomorrow.