The first tears come in the morning, small and quiet
My heart, she sings a maudlin song, echoes of trauma past
A song of violation, violence, loathing, and loss
Her great sorrow, demanding to be heard and seen
Glimpses across time and space, moments of love and sorrow, served up by the mind
My heart, she sings her song, powerful notes slicing my psyche to ribbons
The tears flow in time to her song, I sit and watch, and wonder in pain
Will her song ever end? When will it change?
I wipe my eyes, as tears fall.