Once there was a little girl Who lived a perfect life. She had some older siblings And a dad that loved his wife. Each day she'd grow a little more In body and in mind, And see and hear the things that turn Half the world blind. Blind to the pain and suffering, And blind to all the strife. Blind to the drugs and alcohol That ruin someone's life. Because that someone is her dad She's even blinder yet. For if she tries to face the facts, Her actions she'd regret. So, she keeps on pretending. She goes about her days And acts as though it's normal, But silently she prays. She prays she'll stay accepted By all of her close friends If they find out that her own dad On beer and pot depends. On up, she keeps on growing, And soon, becomes more blind. Now her friends are doing drugs. Are they out of their minds? She wants to tell the dangers, To help them find their way, But rather, does it with them, And so, is led astray. She swore she'd never touch it. She knows it isn't right. Depression, though, is one more thing That makes you lose your sight. She looked where she was heading, And saw where she'd lost track. She moved away from all the things That may have held her back. And though she's not that little girl That lives the perfect life, At least she's opened up her eyes, And turned her wrong to right. It's hard to lose the memories, Especially the bad, Because they tell the story of The life that I once had.
Reason for writing:
I grew up in a divided household. My mother was a devoted Christian, and my father, an old hippie. They both bestowed enormous amounts of love on their children and tried to hide neither their actions nor their views. I am now very appreciative of that. Growing up, though, we tend to be ashamed if our family doesn't measure up to the norm, and I experienced this a lot. My high school career was focused around the thoughts and opinions of my peers. Few of them knew about my father's drug habits. I had no desire for them to find out. When they started partying, however, it was rather hard to keep it a secret any longer. This poem sums up the downside of my experiences in high school and my recovery. I sincerely hope you are able to relate to it or learn from it. If you can do neither, I'd like to think you enjoyed it!
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