Elementary Freedom Poem

But on his death bed.

He confessed. 


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. 


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