I can see where you've come from,
the little child you used to be.
Your eyes tell a story
of a life of poverty.
You lived a life of poverty,
not beaten or abused,
but often feeling lonely,
angry, sad and used.
You worked your fingers to the bone,
no shoes upon your feet.
Your clothing torn and dirty
and not enough to eat.
But you've come so far in life,
each day the sadness slowly dies,
but your heart still bares the scars
of the story in your eyes.
©tinamiller
T