It started off as a simple discomfort, a little hidden truth
It started as a little grain, buried beneath the rug with no escape
It’s funny how life has a way of making you doubt things,
Confidently wakening your being to the anxiety based on the lack of something as simple as trust
Yet the guilty party, unable forsee the shatter about to be birthed, keeps that grain nicely tucked in…
Her Mind, Her Story 