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Its not regressing, it’s oppressing.

I’m no longer messing

Around with the sound of my voice in my ear.

Have I really forgotten everything I’ve learned?

All that I’ve yearned

To explore, deplore, find the corner where it tore

Find a way to piece it back?

It’s not for a lack of trying.

I’ve been on this journey before,

Understanding triggers-

Handling them gently, like daggers.

The grip is tight, and it matters,

For even as I fight, the plunge runs deep.

And there I am, lost in my keep,

Tied up, worn out, full of heart-doubt.

A sigh of sorts escapes me, a small plea

To return to the world, known.

In my struggle to understand the joy in demand,

I push aside the rage

And pay homage to shame.

I am so glad you came.

Forget blame,

I’m the only one here in what appears

To be the small pocket of my heart

That refuses to eject rejection.