The Struggle

The struggle is real they say..
But I've never seen it any other way.
I've seen rape and torture and sexual abuse...
I've seen neglect, been abandoned and robbed of my youth.
I watched my mom lose her struggle with dope...
I spent days being brutally raped and left nude in a room with no hope.
I've been a robber, a thief and a thug who pistol whipped folks.
And I'm not telling you this shit like it's some kind of joke.
My struggle ain't with what I've lived or I'm living but with what I've survived.
I got scars you can't see and scathing wounds buried deep inside- they hide
Sometimes it feels like an eternal divide.
I walk upright cause I'm not living dirty today... But don't think I'm not reminded daily of my victims and what they might say...
I RUINED THEIR LIVES. I STOLE THEIR INNOCENCE. I SCARRED THEM FOR LIFE. I DESTROYED THEIR FAMILY AND DREW MORE BLOOD THAN A SERRATED KNIFE.
I've been behind, in front of and holding cold steel and hot....
Screaming I'm innocent yet knowing I'm not.
Tell me again what struggle you got? I can't even tell you how many times I've been bought.
You ever wonder if you'd be found? After strangulation, sodomy and being left alone in ropes tightly bound?
I'm not saying your struggle isn't real I'm just saying it ain't as bad as it feels.
Life leaving your body, as blackness creeps in your neck firmly gripped in ecstasy by a strangers hands. The struggle.
My struggle.
Looking for emotion to share with your very own child, coming up empty as you force another smile.
Imagine no feelings or intimate connections...
Imagine a life lived based off of good intention.
My struggle.
Her struggle.
Our struggle.
Please reassess your issues today maybe you should take it up when you pray.
The struggle is real to live after what I've survived....
But I assure you, dressed in freedom, I've arrived.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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