Elementary Freedom Poem
But on his death bed.
Or day before?
In front of all the family I hid this truth from.
He still lives.
I die for the thousandth time in 45 years.
I gave him my mercy.
He has yet to tell me who I was supposed to be.
That was his job.
He was supposed to show me who I was.
But as the shame lifts.
I realize that his misuse of me-
created a warrior.
And I do not need anyone to tell me who I am.
I am a Survivor of Child Abuse.