(poe

Things weren’t always so simple for me

Sitting on the playground and wondering why no kids would play with me

Why they kept calling me “the welfare kid”

But little did they know there was more to me than the way I looked

Or the clothes I wore

I became very good at hiding the burses; stuffing down the tears

Little did anyone know what my life at home was like

Kicked and punched;

Pushed and slammed;

Forced and Raped;

No one knew; they wouldn’t care

But I found a “Get Away”

A place to hide

A composition book under my mattress that they didn’t know was there

I wrote;

Even if it didn’t make sense; I wrote

How I felt may not have mattered to anyone else

But it did me.

I cared!ms go here)