Child

I can't let go of the child I was.
When she grew into the woman I am.
And the rage she felt could fill this page and ten thousand others.
A caged bird singing.
Birthing the anger
Pulsing and flowing from her womb,
because to soon she was thrust half formed into womanhood .
Engaged to long to self doubt.
The child bride of to many lasting addictions.

Puff Puff Pass.

Until the pain was to far away to consume her.
And shame was her frame of mind for much to long

Her lack of innocence
mistaken for guilt.
The fucked up little woman-girl-doll that rape built.

Objection counselor.
Where's my honor?
With all that talk
none provided answers.
So instead she demanded action
and her hair trigger reaction became
the plight to expose everyday villains.
and attack hate.
But still she couldn't sleep at night
and the smell of eternity made still made her ill.

She would curse god and ask why me?
And eventually the answer that she got
was "why not?"
And like so many others she couldn't understand the plan .
But still through her anger she prayed.
Finally she knew there was not testimony
in her near demise.

The miracle was her will to survive.

Born of this tragedy she had this newness
.This lyrical lovechild
that she loved to much to abort.

Her words became mine
as she divorced herself fully
from the commitment to victimization.

And finally we fit together
though we revel in being misfits
a society page misprint
leaving an imprint
on every life we touch.