*** Please note- this post is very raw. I wrote this as I was remembering***

I prayed to God that I would not forget

The times, the trials, and the life I thought I might regret

I prayed that the memories would stay raw

For others, whose pain, I saw

I was in Italy, a dream some may say

It felt like hell, my time there was only but one day

I walked around heart sheering in pain

I could hardly cope I wished my life done-my body in a grave lain

I believe I cursed at myself to not give up

Although, I had been told that there were demons inside of me

Which were speaking and someone told them to shut up

I was so confused not sure of who I was, or what to believe

“You’re a runner. You always run” I was told

Lost as to how to withstand the pressure, yet, scared to fold

I was determined to fight

But how and to whom am I supposed to hold tight?

Diseased is how I was portrayed

My wherewithal I knew was slowly being frayed

I kept silent, afraid to stir the pot

I began to anticipate my cheek being, by a hand, shot

There was so much tension

I wanted to die

There was so much condescension

No matter how hard I tried

I wished more than anything to be invisible

Since my presence brought such hostility

How could one person be so divisible

And me- I had become a person of debility


I could no longer survive

I was seen as needing more help than one could give

It felt like I was just a pawn to contrive

Although, I still apologized… it was (I was) too grievous to forgive

Betrayer, un-loyal, untrue

Were words I could hardly believe I heard

Wicked through and through

“I am beginning to give up hope” –so much for being reassured

Lost and alone

Not even knowing where to start – who to phone

Will they believe me ?

Even through they cannot see?

It seems implausible

I bought this lie for too long

Hope seemed impossible

I didn’t know where I belonged

We got out of Italy, thankful for a new member joining

I felt the pressure release a bit with a distraction

I felt the new member and I adjoining

Until, another seize of control and I was cut off like a knee-jerk reaction

The manipulation and control sent me into panic

Lack of appetite, and sometimes loss of bodily control

My mind fought so hard to keep me in check – if not I’d be called satanic

By the time I’d fled, the damage – already was done to my soul

I am grateful to know the pressure and fear

For now I know the meaning of so many tears

I taste the indescribable feeling of freedom

A tiny fraction of fellowship with whom they had to “bleed him”

He, my Jesus, held me when I crumbled

Stood firm when I was enraged

Helped me get back up when I stumbled

And when I had to pick up pieces- He was fully engaged

He allowed such pain for something so much greater

I didn’t see it at first, but I see it now

I must never forget, for of my story, He is the creator

For Him, I look ahead and keep my hands to the plow