The Child

I was called an alley child
Eating out of trash cans and soup kitchens
I ran drugs back and forth
To homes that fed me from their trash cans.

I was called the demon child
Fighting my folks back as they locked me out
I broke into a neighbors house
For some warmth coming from the stove.

I was called the prostitute child
Offering sex when the trash cans had no food
I pleasured men and women for money
When the drugs ran out.

I was called the foster child
Running away from one home to the next
I fell through the cracks as big as the scar
From my head to my chest; beaten and stitched.

Sometimes I lay awake staring at the sky
Finally figuring out that the child in me
Never had a childhood at all, as I get out of bed
And kiss my kids still asleep in their beds.



One response to “The Child”

  1. Follow my blog and feel free to read my poems. By the way lovely poem

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