Lost Childhood Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Scratching the surface, revealing life inside.

Tormented by a past that buries itself in ashes,
from fires burning angrily still.

Doubts, shadows, heads without faces, file slowly
past, haunting inner safety, loosening the security
that's never really been too good.

Unfolding memories from scraps of paper, wrinkled,
torn, difficult to read.

Distorted images parading forward, thrusting them-
selves where they don't belong.

Pleading, cries of woe within, spilling tears
abundantly, crying forever for a lost childhood,
one that never began.

Growing up right from the beginning, taking care of
self with no past experience, results in failure,
wanting and rebellion.

Withstanding all attempts at reaching in, standing
off, aloof, wondering why it's empty, so alone.

Not daring to look beyond the surface of the skin,
shallow, self-centered, taught by no one how to
feel, standing stranded, a child in a grown up's
world, with a body of the same.

Where is the child? Hair long and flowing,
unsmiling?

Dying inside a grown-up body, never having lived
a child's life, not ever knowing what it meant to
play.