Lade Magazine Volume 2 - Page 22

We inherit pain. Those of our mothers and fathers. In the dark hours of the night when we are left to fight battles we have no weapons for. Or tell stories of the scars we have no memories of. Why did daddy touch me that way. Am I the reason mummy cries every night? Why do I search for pieces of daddy in broken places. Broken people. Broken men.

We inherit pain. Those of our pastors, sitters those of our teachers. Those of the people who were supposed to keep our innocence safe. Innocent. To teach us that suffering has no place in love. That the butterflies you feel sometimes are anxiety attacks. Or your hearts way of telling you RUN! That Red flags can be lies. Inconsistency. Broken Promises. Abuse. And He - she is a liar. They will do it again. And again. And again. And again.

To the little you, afraid of being alone. Afraid that no-one is going to love you. Want you. Need you. The pain you carry is not yours. Your scars have a history behind them that you do not know. Of a little boy, little girl whose carried the burden of a father's pain. Because sometimes we inherit pain. And wear it like it is ours to break down to. It ends with us.

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T.awiah

@t.awiah

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