I sit here while others recall their childhood.

"I ate this," "I played that," "I found love,"

While they reminisce, I get caught in a daze.

"I lost this," "I was forced to play this," "the love I had was superficial and fake."

They chattered on and on about their moms and dads while I sat patiently waiting for it to end.

But what if I told them about the man who stole my childhood?

He was there from the beginning, teaching me what was right and wrong.

But his right was always wrong.

"Spell this way."

"Did you get an A?" 

"Your nothing"

Your worthless"

"You’ll never succeed."

"Why do you hate me?" "I've done nothing to you?"

While other girls played and had their fun, this man was stealing my childhood.

I sit here and try to forget, but I simply can’t.

His words were always a knife in my heart.

though he didn’t even come close to having his own heart.

I was his daughter and his main creation.

Yet his hand flew across my face without hesitation.

Forgetting is not possible while you are in a courtroom.

Forgetting is not possible when no justice is served.

Forgetting is not possible when you waste five years.

Forgetting is not possible when you can't find peace.

The trauma left a mark no one can erase, and that is how a man stole my childhood and brought disgrace.