The Cost of Trauma

Do you ever listen,

To the voices of the “lowly?”

The ones who are toughest to hear?

Who leave you exhausted,

When all you are doing, is paying attention?

Afterwards, all the hope of the world dissipates like steam.

It will condense again,

Water beads on the skin.

The people who need you most,

And look, on the face of it,

Empty beyond their bones.

I used to avoid them,

Run from them,

Although I didn’t realize,

I looked like one, for a decade.


I am going to law school now,

After having psychosis,

and walking dead.

I was mean,

Impatient and angry all the time.

Ungrateful and self-absorbed.

Hard to be around,

Even if they loved me.

But I survived,

Fought back against myself,

And succeeded.

I am working to be worthy,

my talents are coming through now.

No one would have ever guessed.

I think of the other “hard” people

And all the hidden talents,

The humanity and hope.

Lost underneath trauma and pain and damage.

give them my time, my patience, my hope.

Because they have so much,

And I want to honor the talent

That is brushed aside.


Published by sickybeat

I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty

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