ChildhoodTrauma

That I really did look like my mother, Should have been a compliment, One that I should have been proud of, Because to them, mother

I sat on the hill behind our house, And from it, I could see Lake Kiva shimmering in the distance. And the line of trees

Childhood and Graveyards Intertwined. I knew death before I could crawl. For my father, eager to escape this life, Was gone long before I drew

You tell me like I don’t know that, Like I don’t wake up and see them, Like I don’t understand who they are, Like I’m

You will always know When a dangerous predator lurks Its stealth and piercing eyes Even in the depth of the forest Where the predator awaits

Who will cry for the little boy? Lost and all alone. Who will cry for the little boy, Abandoned, without his own? Who will cry

Maybe it was really my fault for trusting you, For believing you were the adult who cared, For trusting that you loved me genuinely, For

I came as a shadow, a discount in my stepfather’s eyes, After he married my mother, I was a stranger in disguise. A different blood

I was not always kind to you, I have wished you were different; A bit rounder, A bit softer, I did not take pride in

Alone. I had always been like that even then, Shattered and ruined by those who swore love, Broken by that which I dared to love