MY LIFE AS A CHILD

It all started when I was a baby.
I look at my life, and wonder why the good LORD didn't take me when I was a baby?
Why was I even on earth?
My parents found out that I had some problems when I was born.

When I went to elementary school, I had a medical (physical) problem.
The kids, and the teachers treated me like I was mentally challenged.
I had to draw a name out of a hat, and that kid had to play with me.

I'm sure everyone had a bully or two that used to tease and harrass you.
Well I was one of those children.
This girl would pick on me, and get me in all sorts of trouble, she even one day hit me across the face with a two-by-four, for no reason.
My uncle was living with us at the time, he finally got tired of this girl picking on me. So he locked me out of the house until I beat the crap out of her.
I was raised as a tom-boy, so no pulling hair for me, just punches.

The words they called me cut me like a knife, it was so bad I had to change schools, and life was a little bit better.
The teachers didn't tell the kids of my problem, and I got to meet alot of good friends.

Then my mom married again, at first it was ok, but he was an alcoholic, and pretty much abused me everyday.
I never saw him in a good mood.
He was an angry drunk.

Then in seventh grade at the age of 12, my innocence was lost.
A friend of mine brother raped me.
I was scared, and didn't really understand woman hood then.
I was a late bloomer anyways.

Then we moved away, and thats when I told my mother and brother what happened, then all hell broke loose.
The problem was that my step-father worked 7am-4pm, and my mother worked 3pm to 12am, so they hardly got to see each other all that much, so someone had to be the door mat, punching bag.
My step-father couldn't really cook very well, so when I was old enough I did it.
My step-monster had a son with my mother, but he was never touched or spanked.
I guess I had middle kid syndome, and was beaten everyday.

When I turned 17, he tried to kill me, my mother of course stuck up for him, cause she wasn' t there when it happened.

The next day I got kicked out of the house for being so called disrespectful.
I lived practically on the streets for 2 weeks, and then had to beg to come back.
That was one of the hardest things I had to do.

When I was in high school, I had to fight to be put in regular classes, because the beginning classes were too easy. After my step-monster did this to me, people would not of known me.
At work I knew I had to deal with the public, but away from work I was skidish, and afraid of people.

Finally after years, and years of abuse, I just had to get out.
The beatings, the stompings, those terible crushing blows kept taking my life to its all time lows.
When I tried to get up, I got knocked right back down, because of this always happening I could not wear nothing but a frown.
I saw my self drowning in a sea of hate, not knowing from day to day what might be in my fate.
I would come up for air, when he would walk out the door, hoping he would never come home again, and I would not have to endure no more.