The Trauma Onion

Trauma’s like an onion,
And with every layer peeled,
You shed some tears, expose some fears,
And cringe at what’s revealed,
Then cut into the surface,
Even though it’s newly healed,
Yes trauma’s like an onion,
Where the pangs of shame are sealed.

Trauma’s like a crystal ball,
All fogged with second sight,
You search for soul, within that hole,
Not always finding light,
And when you see a vision,
Chances are it’s full of fright,
Yes trauma’s like a crystal ball,
Where shadows haunt the night.

Trauma’s like a lemon rind,
All pungent to the taste,
The foulness hung, upon your tongue,
It sticks like bitter paste,
And when you try to swallow,
Feelings gag on toxic waste,
Yes trauma’s like a lemon rind,
With memories not so chaste.

Trauma’s like a big balloon,
It’s filled with heated air,
Too much flop, the thing goes pop,
You’re left with vacant stare,
And once it bursts a seam,
Your life is drained of savoir faire,
Yes trauma’s like a big balloon,
Emotions running bare.

Trauma’s like an onion,
And with every layer peeled,
You have the chance, to make a stance,
And soothe what is revealed,
Each breach into the surface,
Means a wound’s becoming sealed,
Yes trauma’s like an onion,
But the damage can be healed.

© The Complicated Bunny – 11 Aug 2022

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