What you don't understand,
is that the fight in me
kept me alive time and time again,
when literally a gun was to my head,
when I did not know if I would see morning,
when my body was no longer my own.
If you had a dog, pretty and sweet-natured,
but she had been kicked...
savagely, repeatedly,
until she foamed in fear at the sight of a boot,
and if you loved the dog,
you would forever take your shoes off,
and you would never allow
a boot near her again.
Lovely explanation of fear, trauma, depression.
ReplyDeleteOr...you would introduce tame boots, starting with the toes, and teach the dog about the true nature of boots until it could walk among boots again, maybe even roll over to be petted by a shod foot, learn the difference between the boot and the face that swings it.