A broken child playing in a grown mind,
If only it was imaginary play.
Obliged to run to your 'beck and call',
I played as your weapon to them all.
"My Daughter will protect me", it was my turn to move,
My little body forced to stand, my quiet voice forced to diffuse.
The hard truth is, I never played good enough,
The bottle always won the game, even over your Daughters love.
You've lit a fire within me, made from pain and trauma,
Sparking often, in to a broken child coma.
Though I've taught myself to use it, all for the greater good,
To heal those like you and I, that have been misunderstood.
"Addiction is such a powerful disease",
Deafening my ears since a child.
My innocent life all too exposed,
To the bottle that wasn't disposed.
Addiction has coloured my story,
My final chapter now filled with glory.
Forever will I remember the trauma that has been done,
And forever will I smile for the woman you have made me become.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Child
Poetry'Broken Child' is an expression of my personal experience, my true thoughts and feelings as an adult, of how being the child of an alcoholic parent, has had an impact on my life.
