Rearwiew mirror

The disturbingly familiar feeling radiated through the eyes.
Like and old warm sweater,
that makes every inch of your skin itch.
.
I battle the urge to speak up and confess,
that i know.
I do know.
I lived with it for years.
I would burst it out hoping it would help,
but knowing it only annoys.
.
Maybe it's not empathy that is pounding on me,
forcing me to hysterically try to help.
It's mostly self-preservation,
because i do not wish to be reminded.
The slightest hint of a memory,
shakes me to the core.
.
The anxiety filled hands that took a firm hold of my heart and guts,
and twisted all good emotions out of me,
like water out of a wet blanket.
The moments when it felt like all that came rushing up my throat,
suffocating me, making me fight back the tears.
Not to speak of all the people harshly shoved away with words,
because they came too close to seeing behind the giggle shield,
strictly kept up with all the shards of energy left.
.
I fought all that off.
Little by little i caged it in,
restricted it's area so other things could get room to breathe.
Little by little i closed it of,
unable to kill it i starved it.
.
Being reminded of it,
is rattling the cage i spent years building,
the cage i'm still building.
.
It is too familiar.
So i tell myself,
i'm projecting my own memories onto someone elses eyes.
And by that i put myself at ease.
So i withdraw my hand.
And silently think to myself.
.
Maybe you'd like to know that if needed,
teddybears can be punching bags to.