Biography
I have this desire
To write and inspire.
But would the world open its ears and listen
When most of my life has already been written?
What about my life could possibly be said
To make it worthy of being read?
Sexually abused by a family friend,
These were dark times that seemed to have no end.
Raped and verbally abused,
This was a life I didn’t choose.
As a third grader I was obsessed with my mortality.
My mother had a severe hoarding tendency.
My father was physically there, but emotionally absent.
I possessed a strong fear of peer judgment.
Drugs and alcohol littered my street.
Strangers became the only people I’d meet.
I saw men bleed until their last breath.
I’ve felt the sting of a premature death.
I saw evil on a daily basis.
I became just a number in a social worker’s cases.
I feared I’d be called a liar.
It was a constant battle to keep my head held higher.
The stories of my life could fill a book,
But would anyone bother to take a look?
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