A raw and very honest look at what its like to be in pain, from social worker angela, of I am my own island
My youngest son was going through my cedar chest and found a poem I wrote that got published in a college anthology and performed during the final presentation. I’ve been looking for it awhile so I could share how this pain has been going on so long.
The very time that changed the seasons, the years. the eras
Has changed me.
I do not know
I am no longer a Gerber baby.
I am no longer an innocent schoolgirl.
I am no longer a naïve adolescent.
I do not spit up on unsuspecting relatives.
I do not play hopscotch on sunny Days
And I do not believe every man is perfect.
— Lover or not —
I don’t remember being a baby.
I rarely ponder on my childhood.
In my adolescence I remember much more.
I remember being spoiled.
I remember being deprived more.
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