If my childhood were different,
who would I be?
A girl more proper who didn't skin her knees?
Or perhaps the pretty one in dresses and bows?
Surely I would have been more popular,
or so the story goes.
If my childhood were different, would I still be afraid?
Of people being too close to me, friends or first aid.
Loud noises that startle me so I jump out of my skin,
Surely I wouldn't be so sensitive, just wanting to fit in.
If my childhood were different, would I drive as well as I do?
To be taught by someone sober, not at age 8 but 15 will do.
The throwing out of beer bottles as I drove many miles,
I only thought of getting home, no laughter, no smiles.
If my childhood were different, would I be thin not fat?
To be misled by dysfunctional messages, too many years, at that.
Eating for comfort, out of sadness and more,
I thought food was my friend, not now, not anymore.
If my childhood were different, would I be married to a man?
Someone who loved me and I him, as best as we can?
Trust is shattered when physical and sexual abuse are repeated,
While it was once a dream to have that love, that dream died defeated.
If my childhood were different, who would I be?
Not the person in the mirror, reflected back at me.
The person I see is a survivor, she fights to stay alive,
I am a strong woman, Praise God, my childhood I did survive.
