Little girl

I’ve heard that there’s a little girl

That’s supposed to live inside.

Maybe sometimes she is there,

But I think she usually hides.

When she was little, she was hurt,

She had good reason to hide.

She got in trouble when she laughed,

In trouble when she cried.

She liked to run, and jump, and play,

And swing upon the swings.

Climb trees, and swim, and ride her bike,

And do all kinds of things.

On the outside, she was normal

As any little girl could be.

On the inside, she was hurting,

Really wanting to be free.

The things that he had done to her

Were terrible and cruel,

And while he always felt so proud,

She felt just like a fool.

She had to live two different lives

Because of what he did.

On the inside, the life of an adult,

On the outside, the life of a kid.

Eventually, as she grew up,

She forgot to be a kid.

The little girl inside the adult

Had gone and totally hid.

At times, she wanted to come out

Of hiding just to play.

But the adult her mind had become

Kept pushing her away.

She’s the one who got me in trouble

The adult outside would say.

If she hadn’t wanted his attention

He wouldn’t have hurt her that way.

She was dumb to keep going back,

Trusting him every time.

Every time she trusted him,

He committed his terrible crime.

That little girl is still around,

And though she likes to hide,

She may show up a little more

If I just let her outside.

She’s the one who asks for hugs,

And does what kids do best.

Get attention, play, have fun,

Put others to the test.

I’ve held her back so many years,

It seems she’d disappear.

But now that I am older,

I’m kind of glad she’s here.

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I am currently raising money to pay for ongoing psychotherapy. I am a survivor of complex trauma, I have dissociative identity disorder, and complex PTSD.  Therapy can be very expensive.

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