Sometimes I'm afraid to say what's inside
Because the past still shows outside
sometimes its hard when opening to T
because images of mom I can still see
So i cower away with fear and dread
And cry over things I should have said
And while my T is working with me
I am striving to erase "the mom I see"
So Little by little I try to go
Taking out pieces that I can show.
Slowly revealing each part of me
Till I erase that mom that I still see.