Roadmaps

Surrounded by a group of friends

Each one with stories of trauma

But their scars are more visible

Written on their skin like a roadmap

To an uncertain future earned by blood

While mine float in doubt and shame

Around a heart with too many holes,

Seams undone by harsh words and a longing

To create roadmaps of my own

But I am unmarked in my cowardice.

I wish for the open bravery of my “friends”

Whose roadmaps were a testament of survival,

A beacon to those who’d felt the same

And who had similar roadmaps to explore

While my roadmap remained hidden

Behind false smiles and self-depreciating jokes

Because it is easier to repress trauma

Then to mark my skin with lines

Showing how fucked-up I really am

But they’ll never know my pain

For words cannot adequately describe

A pain that is internalized from childhood

So, I hide behind a false smile

Imagining the lines of my own roadmap

As I play the impostor.