A Facade

He wore nice clothing and held a good job.
A man’s man he was.
Known in his community, loved by his family.
He lived at the top of a hill,
working his five acres of land effortlessly.
Animals,
an orchard,
a garden,
a hayfield,
and the woods
He was a legend in his own mind.
Accomplished.
Admired.

A facade.
All of it.

He was evil,
dangerous,
violent,
abusive.

By his family he was feared;
hated;
obeyed.

And the child;
silently crying,
whose body was used and broken,
pays the price with a lifetime of pain.

They say legends never die;
but he did.
A legend, he was not.

~~~~~

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Please stop by and check out the essential oils that I use for coping and the books that I reference for clarity and understanding as I learn to live with PTSD.

Do you have a hobby? I make homemade cards as part of my self care routine.

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Love & Support 💜💚

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