A child born in grace,
precious, innocent, and pure.
She bear an empty canvas.
An opportunity for more.
Born with the God given right to be guided, loved, protected and safe.
From the start she was trained to fight or flee.
Little did anyone know she was blessed with undying faith.
Ignored and envied
she quickly became.
A mistake and burden they said,
she was but an opponent, in an endless game.
In competition for her every need.
Her unworthy adversary?
A burnt spoon of ******, and only a syringe that could fill the need .
A pill, a rock, a smoke.
Lust, greed, and ***? It must be fun.
She fought tirelessly
but sadly never won.
She watched the devils playground grow wild.
Long nights sitting cold, lonely and guarded.
Could they really hate a child?
She held onto her last drop of hope, but no one every came.
No one ever spoke.
Not even a smile or a hug. They never even mentioned her name.
Too young to understand then.
She lost the competition for maternal love.
Mommy belonged to dealers, withdrawals, and motel men.
Baby girl had only her God up above.
She must be someone's little girl.
Guilty until proven otherwise.
Handed a life sentence on a familiar path.
Now painfully addicted with no disguise.
High as kite on a hot LA night.
"She's dead to me now, but where's my other half?"
Did he ever put up a fight? Did he ever want me?
Does he know I exist?
He could know all to well, with no love or care.
Was he also lost and sick?
Was he missing his little girl or is life truly this un-fair.
I loved and adored the idea of what he might be.
My protection; my father.
Could he possibly love me.
Meanwhile the voice inside says "why bother?"
He's my only hope for unconditional love and a real connection.
My dreams were how I identified.
Never considering his rejection.
"He's a drunk!" she screamed at me.
To cope, I have to believe that she lied.
My daddy has to be mine.