
When I was a kid, I would buy my parents cigarettes, I would lie for them, I would steal for them, I would deliver their meals, I would pick up the debris after explosive arguments, then I would nurse their wounds (both emotional and physical). I was a servant, pasting on a fake smile while hatred and rage bubbled within at my slavery.
I can relate…
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😦 That isn’t a good thing ♥
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Such a hard hitting message
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Thanks Sadje ♥
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You’re welcome 😉
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No childhood is without trauma, but yours sound pretty extreme! I am sorry you did not get the nurture you needed. I hope you are happier as an adult! ❤ Your poem is well-written. I hope it helps people to become better parents. The early years are so important! Take care, Cheryl
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I am better off as an adult! There were good times in my childhood as well, just so much dysfunction and mental illness as well 😦
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That’s quite traumatic…..to do all that…..such things are difficult to forget as they sit deep….you’re the light, that once entered in your dark room from that wound…..sharing such a poem is a huge thing…..not all have the courage to do so…..thank you for sharing your ❤️
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Thanks for reading and commenting ♥♥
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You’re welcome.
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GOSH!
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LOL
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This speaks of my childhood, powerful stuff.
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Yeah, many have similar stories.
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Life is no simple stroll really.
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Such a deep poem!
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Thank you! That means a lot!
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You have a great talent for poems!
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Aw, thank you ♥
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Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford.
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Thanks for the reblog!
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See my latest—or next-to-latest!
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Do you have a link to which post you want me to see?
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let me see…try this: https://bythemightymumford.wordpress.com/2020/09/11/gods-mercies-are-new-evry-morning/
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Strong words 🙂
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Strong emotions tend to create strong words ♥
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Wow! its such an amazing poem. I can totally relate to it. The words and emotions are too good. Good work keep it up
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Aw, thank you.
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