Red
blood on soft, white fur,
darkening, drying, hardening,
making a mockery
of what used to be.
Broken rabbits, mangled beyond repair.
Three rabbits.
One for each year of my young life....
Murdered.
To show me what would happen
to me
and my family
I ever told.
And so.
I didn't.
For thirty-nine years, I "forgot".
And for thirty-nine years
I was like the rabbits....
broken,
mangled inside.
The few memories I now have explain so much.
Why I needed to please
at the expense of my own spirit,
Why I am so devastated by anger
Why I've spent most of my life
in a frozen state.
To feel hurt too much.
Why I've been so afraid all of my life.
Unknown fears.
Can
you believe how one man's sickness
can steal a life?
