For years I felt like I was responsible
Like somehow I was to blame
Did I come at the wrong time, the wrong place, did I have the wrong name?
Then as I grew older I realized the problem wasn’t truly mine
It wasn’t me who had the issues
Why else would someone hurt a child, call her names, make her cry?
It was at the moment when I was able to accept
I was who I was no matter what
How could I be anything less than beautiful, accepted and whole?
So I embraced my entire being with all that I could
It wasn’t my burden to carry afterall
Why should I let it stop me, block me, or weigh me down?
This post was written as part of the TheBlogDare writing prompt with BloggyMoms…
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