Non-Fiction,  Poetry

Age Seven

Seven years old.

Naivety knew me well and insecurity held me tight.

I was happy, I was innocent.

I loved to play pretend in the trees

And chase snakes in the grass.

I had a mother and a father, 

I had God and I had imagination.

I had music in my ears.

One by one those things, they left me.

Goodbye daddy, goodbye Jesus.

Goodbye childhood, goodbye love songs.

All that was left was a fearful child,


It happened in just one day.

A sunny afternoon.

Innocence taken. Age seven.

There in the closet, no one to catch my streaming tears.

No one to come and save me.

No screams came from my mouth.

My voice was gone.

All the playing had come to an end.

No more make-believe, no more barbies.

No more pirates.

Civility and anxiety were all that hugged me.

No one else offered comfort or safety.

So I clung to them with all my strength.

The fields behind that house

Grew tall with wheat and weeds.

They soon became home,

Where I could run to to be alone.

I saved myself.

I hit my peak.

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