After remembering a child hood Christmas at four,
Molested & raped at that young age,
Every Christmas does remind me of memories in store,
So much was I in those days memory poor…
I thoroughly recall every feeling of pain,
Much to each of life’s bane,
What family I had disowned me,
They apparently didn’t realize why I acted out so insane,
Might have been my past as well as the constant cocaine…
So too many remembrances of past bad Christmases,
And not enough people to be that of witnesses,
Why can I not purge this from my memory circuits,
My life from this has never had any purpose,
I think I should have just joined a traveling circus.
© -ed- 12/24/21
The past is not your fault - just because someone is born in the same family has no relevance to whoever you choose to like
.
Regis. 🙏⛄🍁
And the insidious nature of this opiate is its ability to bring you down into the worst depths of your existence. I've known several people addicted who died. The rest, like you recovered but were no longer able to really fend for themselves in society and required family or government help to keep off the streets.
No wonder you have no passion for writing anymore. You probably never did in the first place.
Ron