--Born with Shame--

In the depths of my past, a journey unfolds,

Reflecting on the seeds I've sown, stories untold. 
When asked of my history, a tale I would spin, 
Whispering admissions of perceived sin.

 

Born premature, in a world so cold,

From a mother addicted, her story untold.

Living in shadows, where darkness held sway,

A turbulent start, shaping me every day.

 

No words to father, mother, kin,

Nor siblings' ears to let their voices in.

No dwelling, no grandpa's loving embrace,

No grandma's warmth, no solace to chase.

 

My birth certificate, a silent reminder,

A blank space, a wound that grows wider.

Rejection engraved on that fragile sheet,

Fueling doubts, causing my heart to retreat.

 

From birth, they stripped my rightful claim,

With no possession sacred, no hope to tame.

Even my flesh, denied as my own,

A tragedy endured, a truth I've known.

 

For years, burdened by self-imposed blame,

Believing I was the one, the child of shame.

Instinctively, I still say I was hard to bear,

A troubled soul, too difficult to care.

 

But it was a falsehood, a twisted perception,

The monters, the groomers mere fabrication.

I wonder if I will ever be able to reclaim,

The parts of me they have stolen and defamed.

 

I was left with scars no one could see,

And pain that would never truly set me free,

The chains they put on all around my spine,

A darkness, I was forced to confine.

 

Groomers prey on innocence with no empathy or care,

Leaving nothing but shame and despair,

A weight upon my soul that I cannot shake,

No matter how much I try or how much I ache.

 

Within the ink of sorrow, pain takes form,

Crafting a tale of anguish, its depth forlorn.

An abandon child, stripped of all, left alone,

Whispered secrets silenced, forever unknown.

 

Still, I am grateful to God for the gift of my heart,

A spirit resilient, refusing to fall apart.

For it is in the deepest challenges we face,

That the hand of God provides the embrace.