Beneath
the folds within the brains
Of
some of us exist remains
Of
early traumas, tucked away
And
if we’re lucky, there they’ll stay.
Yet
if we aren’t, they’ll sneak through
And
possibly provide a clue
To
why some triggers make us snap
As
if we’ve stumbled on a trap.
That
knowledge, though, won’t be enough
To
call that bottled genie’s bluff
For
once he’s gone, it’s time to deal
With what his breakout does reveal.
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