This poem is about restoration of the mind, body and spirit. Right?

How you were small
and the mean streak embedded
its claws into your trembling
self too young to understand
How you'd no one
with sense to turn to
tell--nobody who could really
grasp the situation
its significance its size
How you escaped
into books of pleasant stories
lands far away
distancing yourself from reality
its fright its naked nights
How if you'd only known
how to pray sincerely
or known you weren't alone
that you had at hand
a person who understood
who could have guided
advised
How at least you had your mom
and from your dad
three hot meals a day
a warm home in winter
and school to attend
How you matured and made
discoveries
saw in a way that
only with the passage
of years many and long
one is able to see
How in hell when finally
you have retrospect
the mean streak controlled
adulthood
do you patch it all up
do you repair regenerate
your woebegone
waterfront self?