She’d, suddenly, waken up, and found herself, in the midst, of that little shop of her horrors. She’d looked around, and saw those monsters, gnashing out their teeth at her, she tried to scream, used ALL her might but, no sound came out from her two lips…
In this little shop of her horrors, she grew up, slowly, holding on, to those, childish beliefs, that her parents loved her, when they never did! The little shop of her horrors carried ALL her worst nightmares, and, it’s, inside that little shop of her horrors, that ALL of those, bad memories were kept, locked up, in Pandora’s Box.
not my photo…
The little shop of her horrors, she’d lugged around with her, like that luggage you’re, traveling with, save, that that luggage, just, NEVER gets lost, the way those airlines would, sometimes, lose the customers’ baggage…
The little shop of her horrors, she’s now, all grown up, but, she’s still, haunted, gnawed, by what was in that, little shop of horror, that, was hers, to keep. The little shop of her horrors, she’d slowly, come to understand, that it was, NEVER her fault, that she’d, lived inside the confines of.
not my photo still…
The little shop of her horrors, they’re, no longer, horrible for her to relive now, she’d, finally gone through the 12-steps to healing from the traumas of her younger years, it’s just, that as she’d looked back every now and then, she’d still felt, sorrowful, for that young child who was, once, her former self…
