It came to me like snails come to gardens: ready to consume, Ooze with slime, At first, I didn’t notice, But then slowly over time, Clothes became to big, Hip bones stuck out, But it was my eyes, The dead look, No life in them, It was like I was without a soul, Trauma is slow, At least for me, Trauma consumes everything you are, Ripping and tearing, Chewing and munching on body, mind and soul, Once upon a time, I let trauma consume me whole, Allowed him to win, But I won’t be plant that allows snails to consume me, Not anymore, I will be the fall foxglove, Towering over plants, Bright flowers and poisonous to eat, Or poisonous to hurt, I will never, Let anyone or anything consume me whole again.