«It started at innocense, corrupted to the core…» — Summary

It started at innocense, corrupted to the core Manipulated, trained, groomed Choice a matter of fiction Called a liar, trauma and hurt minimized Told to shove it down or just completely unseen Hidden amongst the crowd Not allowed to express or talk about Shoved in a box stored out of sight. Unable to morn over so many firsts taken So many choices taken, shelf control, self of mind, stolen Going through the motions to live as a shell of a person Trying so hard to just exist, to want to exist Remembering how my body felt, my feelings, my mind Our little secret, our own little world, special Lies made or a story told to manipulate to take what you wanted Still taboo, still cant talk about without tears and fidgeting Disassociating into oblivion to not feel this pain, this heartache This betrayal of someone who was suppose to protect me Consumed everything and who I was and who I could have been A child's mind forced into a situation That still lies hidden, smothered Pressure over filling, the box spilling out Making future decisions to trust doubted Unable to deal with, unable to sit with, unable to open up Because the thoughts and the feelings bubble up and spill over And the spiral and cycle continues, never ending.

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Content note: the poem deals with childhood abuse and its lasting trauma.

NamiSorano writes about being abused as a child by someone who should have been a protector. The speaker describes being groomed and manipulated, then disbelieved and told to bury what happened. The "little secret" and "own little world" show how the abuser made harm feel special, and the poem treats that as a lie used to take what the abuser wanted.

The speaker's feelings are grief, betrayal, shame and exhaustion. Lines like "a shell of a person" and "trying so hard to just exist, to want to exist" suggest numbness and a struggle to stay present. The box image returns: first the pain is shoved into one and stored out of sight, then it is "spilling out." The final lines describe a cycle that never ends, since the speaker cannot sit with the feelings or open up, and the feelings keep bubbling over anyway.

The mood is raw, heavy and unpolished. The rough, unfinished phrasing makes it feel like a confession rather than a crafted performance.

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