The Trauma Poem

Angela Meredith
The Bitter Apple
Published in
2 min readNov 25, 2023

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Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash

It rearranged me:

took parts away and

subbed in alternatives

that I accepted as my own.

I believed in this version of myself.

I believed I was who they said I was.

The real me became a ghost — unseen.

Her existence: a joke.

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