But my heart is crying, why doesn't the rain cleanse my soul?
Why doesn't the sunshine thaw my frozen heart?
Why does the display of colors in the sky make me feel ugly?
Why do the ever-blooming wildflowers make me feel so alone?
Why does life have to leave me so cold and afraid?
We are the lost angels, the forgotten children, hidden in closets, told to be quiet and obey. All we wanted was to be loved and cherished. We wanted to hear how beautiful we were and how treasured we were. But it never happened, not for us. Instead we were abused and betrayed by the very people who should have loved and cared for us or at the very least, taken our pleas for help seriously.
Childhood sexual abuse stays with us, long into our adult lives. We do not feel good about ourselves, we have problems loving and trusting. In turn, we cannot let people get to close and we cannot allow ourselves to get to close because if we do, we are opening ourselves up for hurt and pain.
I think this poem reflects the way most of us have felt about ourselves at some point during our recovery.
