The Victim who pays?
How do I sort these feelings inside?
Feels like I'm on a roller coaster ride!
One day I'm happy, the next I'm sad?
What did I do that was so bad?
I was just born, to a mother of three,
Child number four, one she couldn't see.
Another girl, just like the rest,
Right from my birth, I'd never be best!
By the age of five, she'd left our home,
Leaving us children, sat there all alone.
We got farmed out, to others to care,
Sometimes I wish, she had left us all there.
But she wanted us back, so took us away,
To a very strange house and future that day.
To a man who used and abused each of us,
We couldn't complain, or kick up a fuss.
Was I such a child that drove him insane?
Was I really bad, was I to blame?
What did I do for him to hate me so much?
That he would advance, to inappropriatly touch?
Why did he feel, he had the right,
To make all my childhood be spent in fright?
Now as an adult, I hate what I see,
A scared little child, that is 'little me'.
So full of anger, and so full of pain,
Will I ever get my life back again?
Tears falling freely, so often these days,
How come it's always the victim who pays?
By Kathy
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