When I Get Low

I was just an ordinary, nine-year-old girl, eyes peering out from under a doll-like curl, but, those blonde curls so quickly had to fade, as I grew up sooner than the rest in 3rd grade. Taught a hard lesson, though not at school, I learned at home how life could be too cruel, from an adult bully whose words abused this kid, forcing her into a dark room, where for years, she hid. Turning the pages of books, disappearing into fantasy, only they took away what had become her reality, having only known outer pain from scraping my knee, I discovered then how deep an inner pain can be. Now, after more than 20 long years, he is finally gone, though the sting of the words still lingers on, sometimes, when I get low, when I've failed the fight, I'm back in that dark room, wondering, was he right? Then I turn on the music that once brought me joy, I play it all over again, like it was a favorite toy, and with the old songs always comes the tears, as I remember them from my happiest years, escaping again to those innocent days before 1992, back to those cherished days before I ever knew you. *This is a true story. I was that 9 year old girl.