I walk a mile in borrowed shoes,
Each step a whisper of old pain,
Carrying trauma through the journey,
A fragile bridge to the past.
Each step a whisper of old pain,
Echoes linger where silence grew —
Soft rain falls, but it cannot wash
The ache that memory knew.
Carrying trauma through the journey,
The road unfolds, uneven, long —
Yet even wounds can find a rhythm,
Beating steady, becoming song.
A fragile bridge to the past,
Built from tears and unspoken dreams —
I walk a mile in borrowed shoes,
Toward the light that gently redeems.
Therapy Bits 
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