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Sunday, June 3, 2012

Foster homes

The  moving has me triggered back to when I was so small
And was going  to the foster homes everything I now recall
I remember how I packed my bags; and was taken so far away
Hitting the man who took me out  and crying so much that day

I'm remembering bits and pieces; the images they are clear
I see so much comotion happening: some arguing I can hear
I remember trying to say good-bye but no one responding back
I couldn't understand it all but  I clung tightly to my sack.

I thought it was for a little ride; didnt know it would be so long
I cried to think I was not home and wondered what I did wrong
Now I'm sitting here today caught up in moments from the past
Why is it  that I keep going there   how much longer will it last?

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