I think perhaps trauma like a poem, is not meant to be satisfying to consume or create. But rather, its truth lies in the acceptance of its most vulnerable unaltered form. An unpalatable collection of strong contrasting dualities that perhaps do not make linear sense to us or the minds of others. Visceral Rage and sadness in times of joy, love and resentment sharing the same pair of shoes. I feel I speak my truth, when I feel more uncertain of myself at the end than I was in the beginning.