francis harrison

The Making Of A Child

It all comes back to me now, the painful times I sought to forget;
The anger that I was not in control of me
The many ills of life my young eyes were made to see;
My life would never be the same, that smile u see will always be phony and fake;

I remember how many times I cried, how I sought love in places they might never be found;
How I wished I was different, how I wished I was never born;
They say God has a better plan, but what that was for me was kind of hard to fathom;

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