They didn't even give me a chance to be a little child
Their hands were always hurtful and their words were ever wild
I wept and cried my childhood through and when I was finally of age
I ran from the place they called my home and turned another page..
Sometimes I wondered when I was alone if everyone had to hurt
If everyone born a baby child felt like they were only dirt
There's something about the way I lived and the way I was made to be
That made me think I wasn't a human and was some sort of commodity..
I don't think I knew back then the wrongness of the things I saw..
That being hurt and beat so much wasn't something unusual at all
Somehow I thought that us littlest ones were born to simply be
Whatever the adults in our lives decided and mine was.. misery..
I'm so glad I know so much better now and can relate to those who've cried
Beneath the covers or pillow fluffs in attempt to courageously hide
The sounds of fear and helplessness in a home so full of hate
I am here to say I've survived it all and my healing is beginning, but late..