Watching the children play as they,

Laugh, cheer, and enjoy the very fibers of their beings,

I’ve envied them,

Not bitterly, not sweet,

Just simply envied.

That which was denied to me,

Or rather stripped from my very existence,

By two men, who felt themselves,

So low in esteem

That they counted themselves unworthy enough,

To deprive someone else of that pleasure.

Alas! That someone was me

And so I have struggled to understand

The change they brought upon me.

Should I be bitter? Should I be mad?

Should I scorn at society itself?

Can I allow myself to become,

Solely an empty shell,

And transform into nothing better,

Then what my trespassers were

When they so chose to trespass upon me?

I have not allowed that,

Nor will I ever so chose to do so.

Somehow I have managed to transgress,

Beyond that lonely feeling of victimness

Though I chose to cling to it for a while,

I expected nothing better of myself for,

My offenders thought me worthy of nothing less,

Then complete emptiness and guilt.

No longer shall be my acquaintances,

These foes that I believed,

They’ve got no power over who I am

Or who I believe I can be.

They are merely loud, penetrating cries,

That will forever surround me

But shall never become a part

Of the description of myself.

Age 18

Onto the poem of the Potomac boys and thier struggle to truly understand their offenses.