I wrote this poem in May of 2010. I had been reflecting back when I turned 18 and how I hadn’t really focused on building a future for myself once I was old enough to move out of my parents house. I remember feeling surprised that I had made it to 18 and I thought, “Now what?”
I realized that my childhood was spent living in survival mode. When you are living in such turmoil, it’s hard to see a future. It’s hard to dream. How can you dream about a future that you aren’t sure you will live to see?
This is a very real example of child abuse and how it can affect a person who just stepped into adulthood, with no clue what to do next, because they never really thought they would be an adult.
It also highlights how important it is to have support services like counseling available. I absolutely needed it then…. But didn’t get it until years later.
This is a trigger warning: The following poem talks in detail about child abuse.
"Free" by Zen Fu Ok, here I am... I made it. I didn't think I would. I lived to see my eighteenth birthday. I sometimes wondered how I possibly could. With all the tiptoeing on your eggshells, And running from the shards that you break, With all the broken destruction That you left in your wake. All the times you left your mark on my body And every time you crushed my spirit, Through all the times I cried for help And no one would hear it. The times that you made me feel dirty And ashamed for being a girl. All the times you held me down And stifled me in your cruel world. The stains your fingers made around my neck, My eyes will always see. And I'll never forget the look in your eyes; Such hatred and evil staring straight at me. Through the times that you kicked me As I was huddled on the ground, As you tell me to stop crying, Be quiet- don't make a sound. The time you laid out all your guns To show me who was boss. When you tried to burn the house To make your anger our loss. When I walked in the front door one night To see a gun in your lap I just had to mention the words "cops" To see you lunge and snap. It wasn't enough for you To pull out clumps of my hair. You told me that you'd kill yourself If I walked away- if I dare. The guilt trips that you ingrained in me And the shame that you installed Echo in my head, Trapped inside these walls. So where do I go from here, Now that I'm technically "free?" Because I never really thought about It happening to me. But free is just a concept on paper And doesn't translate to my life. Because how can I be free With these scars from your strife?
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