The Wound That Would Not Heal


The memories are still very real, they come at night. Triggered by driving by your house, hearing your voice and that song. I can count on all my fingers and toes all the times I reached out for help, reached out to tell my story and it's still there.


This big silver shield protects me by watching you. I am still here.

Acrylic, spray paint, metallic paint, and ink on canvas