I didn’t ask
for harsh words.
I merely wanted
a ball glove.

Bruises of my youth
will fade,
but memories of your anger
are seared forever.

I sought protection,
but only received excuses
which smelled
of whiskey and
stale cigarettes.

You called me
a mistake of passion,
you treated me
as a little lower
than your dog.

Why?
No wait…
don’t answer.

Your cruel interactions
led me to
a determined goal:
to live free.

I’ve turned madness into
bravery,
teaching others
to be proud,
walk up straight,
be courageous.

I want the world to know
my story, the history
which made me
who I am today.

I am yours,
though your denial
rots away your
last chance at decency.

I hope you see
where you’ve gone
wrong,
for I’ve told your life
through the eyes
of a child.