Fragmented Memories

At two, I knew a fleeting warmth, then loss without a sound,
A father’s smile I still can see, but his voice I’ve never found.
I lay upon his chest that day, my mother took the frame,
A single moment left to hold, but never quite the same.

At three, a darker figure came, and filled our fragile space,
A man whose anger shaped the air, whose shadow I’d embrace.
His words and hands both left their marks, too deep to fade away,
And even now, I carry them with me, to this day.

At four, I learned the world could hurt beyond my home alone,
A trip, a fall, the taste of blood, a pain I’d never known.
My brand new shoes were scuffed and torn, I cried without a sound,
And saw that hurt lived everywhere, at school and home I found.

At nine, beneath a childhood tent, the world began to shift,
A moment brief yet endless felt, a heavy, silent rift.
I didn’t know what had occurred, just something wasn’t right,
The truth would come in later years and haunt me in its light.

At ten, my nana slipped away, my refuge from it all,
Her love had been my quiet shield against each rising fall.
I searched for ways to end the pain, though never chose to go,
Just knowing there was “out” became a comfort I would know.

At eleven, I felt out of place, not fitting into any mould,
Not quite like them, not quite like me, a truth I found cold.
I longed for things I couldn’t name, for softness I denied,
A quiet sense of who I was, buried deep inside.

At twelve, the darkness grew too loud, I tried to make it end,
A handful taken, my body fought, I lived but couldn’t mend.
I turned to flame upon my skin to feel some form of control,
Each burn a mark, a silent scream from deep within my soul.

At thirteen, anger overflowed, I shattered doors and peace,
I packed a bag to run away, to finally find release.
But my mam saw what I couldn’t say, she pulled me from that edge,
And in her arms, I broke apart and spoke my quiet pledge.

At fourteen, something new awoke, a spark I couldn’t hide,
A moment shared that opened doors to feelings deep inside.
It blurred the lines I’d always known, showed truths I couldn’t flee,
A quiet step toward understanding parts of who I’d be.

At fifteen, love became a storm that mirrored what I knew,
With shouting, pain and violence, I somehow thought was true.
I left, returned, then left again, until I broke away,
And when I sought help, I heard, “just man up,” and was turned away.

At sixteen, I fell off the path, smoking and shopliftings,
To alcohol, reckless nights and all the chaos it brings.
A crowd that numbed the world, where nothing felt too real,
A life that spun without control, too blurred to truly feel.

At seventeen, I tried to change, to build a better view,
But love again became a place where harm was dressed as true.
Consent was twisted, trust betrayed while I could not defend,
And clarity came far too late to name it in the end.

At eighteen, words began to fit, identity took form,
No longer just confusion lost within a silent storm.
I found myself in truth at last, though softly, without show,
A woman finding her own name, a self I’d come to know.

At twenty-one, I spoke aloud the truth I held inside,
And stepped into the world at last with nothing left to hide.
A collision then marked my body, with deep pain that would remain,
And trauma carved its heavy path through memory and pain.

At twenty-two, I changed my name, I thought I could truly live,
But loss and hardship took their toll with more than I could give.
Two friends dead, a home lost and ten months living in the cold,
Christmas that year held a fragile thread of life I barely hold.

At twenty-three, I crossed the sea, a brand new world in view,
And there I found a kind of love that felt both real and true.
A heart that dared to hope again, to trust, to finally see,
That maybe life held more than pain waiting there for me.

At twenty-four, we said “I do,” I saw a future bright and wide,
Our love expanded into more, with openness as a guide.
For once it felt like everything was falling into place,
A life that held both joy and peace I finally could embrace.

But at twenty-five, new trials came, my mind began to break,
Inpatient walls became the place where healing I would take.
New strength, new meds, a will to live returned to me again,
Though even joy held complex truths I struggled to explain.

Now I’m twenty-six, things are bad, the love I thought would stay,
No longer together, I stand between two worlds, unsure of my own way.
But I don’t want death, I just want peace, a life without ache,
And I wonder, as I type this, will I be okay?

Regarding feedback, I saw the rules said to try and include pieces that were not commented on yet, hence why I have provided three links. One was the first I saw on the sub and had to give feedback. The other two were sourced when I sorted by new.

Feedback I gave 1

Feedback I gave 2

Feedback I gave 3