I stand before the opening.
Ivy drips
in thick ropes
from the cave ceiling
into a pool of tangled
tendrils upon the floor.
This is my cave,
my trauma;
the place I created
in order to survive.
But in this shadowed place
my skin has become translucent,
my sight narrowed to fit into
the peripheral of a pinhead,
and I have made myself so small
and so needless
that I can b…