Iron Clad Lessons

I rummage through my closet
find a story, it opens at last.
Something like this is painful,
left for to long in the past.

Tears begin to fill these eyes,
held back for so many years.
Staring at this small child,
standing on a cloud of fear.

Far to young to understand
she wasn't really a bad kid.
Messed up this fragile girl,
because of what you once did.

Was she never good enough?
Did she never make you proud?
For all the things she did,
how she stood out in the crowd.

I reach far out to hold her,
keep her safe from all harm.
Close my eyes and remember,
feeling the scar on my arm.

Your fists hurt her so,
your words they did bruise.
It's time to stop denying,
child you were once abused.

'Were' is such a key word
in this story I tell you.
No longer she'll stay quiet,
this talk is long over due.

The little girl is much wiser,
the little girl is not scared,
the little girl is but me,
and you better be prepared.

I'm finally able to stand up,
made it through the dark storm.
My heart it will always give,
my smile shall remain warm.

My children will never know
what it feels like to be hit.
My children will never feel
the wrath of the old mitt.

No, my children will feel loved,
I will fulfill their every need.
With a caring mother and father
helping them grow as tiny seeds.

Watch me as I close this book,
throw it out into the light.
Watch it crumble before my eyes,
watch it wither from the fight.

Your fists may have scarred,
your words may have bruised.
It's time to stop denying,
I will no longer be abused.