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The Inner Child
I once was young and filled with hope
Because I did not understand,
That life is like a length of rope
Contemplated between my hands.
All too soon, hope gave way to stress,
And the pressure began to build.
How could I even express
That I’d have been better off killed?
Others battled typical things,
Rules, authority, common sense.
My enemy packed a greater sting.
Against myself, I had no defense.
Growing older made it clearer,
As the child within cried in pain,
The girl looking in the mirror,
Knew nothing but hatred and shame.
Hidden places became canvas
To the truth of feelings inside.
A profoundly bone deep sadness
Brought tears that rarely ever dried.
Life went on, as it surely must,
And no one even thought to ask,
Why long-sleeved shirts had gained my trust
Or why smiling became a task.
That length of rope then called my name,
Beckoning to send me back,
But when the time finally came,
The child said, “Cut yourself some slack.”
My inner war still rages on,
Though more often now I hear a voice,
Each day its volume growing strong,
“Learn to be a child and rejoice.”