Five years old, as loud as could be,
I wanted someone to notice me.
Goofy faces, ribbons, and bows,
But hiding the bruises so no one would know.
Ten years old, quiet and reserved,
Believing what happened I deserved.
Looking for monsters under my bed,
When all along they were in my head.
Fifteen years old, scared and alone.
Daddy left, I had no home.
Late nights I would stay up and cry
With a blade to my wrist, wanting to die.
Sixteen years old, healthy and strong,
I stayed faithful when things went wrong.
Through the hurt and through the lies,
I have done the impossible; I have survived.
The Strength To Make It Through
My Story
Published: November 2016
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