I grew up in broken homes with vicious cycles
Night terrors on constant repeat when my eyes close
Raised by tatted men on motorcycles
There were plenty of cigarettes and empty bottles
I grew up quickly from the trauma that followed
Single mom on her own with no place to go
A restless woman with a troubled soul
While my father was a rolling stone

When I tried to hide the pain
Certain people thought my heart was cold
When I was really stuck in survival mode
Hard times made me feel alone
Until women’s love taught me that no one has to live alone

They taught me that my story is our story
That our story is her story
That her story is History
That there is healing in telling our story