I was reared by pain. He was a father to me,
My real imaginary friend, my monster agony.
From baby to teen pain waxed and wained.
He watched me cry, then tenderness feigned?
He twisted my fingers, my toes...my knees,
He tried to twist the very backbone from me.
Other times he was tender, fond and good.
Ambivalence is my heritage,
A past misunderstood.
But here I am now and I am full grown.
Pain is still there, but I myself am alone...
Without weakness or wondering,
Or fears, his pleas...
“Aren’t you crippled?
Do you worry about me?”
Ha! I was raised on pain. I know all it’s traps.
I’m not fooled, I will not relapse.
Myself I am, I answer to me!
I stand tall. I am at liberty.
Though pain is my parent, he answers to me.
I make the rules, I give the key.
Pain made me stronger,
My growth is despite it.
It is my legacy,
I will not deny it.