Beautiful, Ugly, Words

There was an old saying, "Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me (unknown author)." That cute little statement is like sugar to the ear, but after digesting this fruit, we find falsehood in the end. Whore, bitch are some of the names I was called by my biological father. My mother was 24 years old when she died of a heroin over dose. My brothers and I went to live with my father, and his new bridezilla. My stepmother hated my mother, and whenever my stepmother and my father fought- he would call her a bitch, and she would say your Bitch is six feet under (referring to my mother). It's amazing how people believe children are mental retarded/challenged; like they can't understand adult conversations. I found my mother dead when I was 5 years old. She said, her last word's to me. While my mother got high, I used to take care of my baby brother. I fed him, and changed his pampers. The first time I smoked marijuana, I was four years old. The fear I felt that night is burned in my memory.
When we moved with my father, I was scared to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, so I would wet my bed. I got beat every morning with a thick leather belt. I hated the smell of leather for years. I went to school with whelps on my body everyday. I showed one of my teachers my bruises one day, because I was in pain, and she hugged me. I also had to wear a sign on my back that said, "I WET THE BED!" Then I had to ride my bike up and down the street, with the sign on my back. Three years of living with my father was like being in hades. After the 3 year prison bid I did at my father's house- I moved all over the place. I moved so many times I can't remember every place I lived. I was in programs, moved with relatives, and lastly foster homes. I ran away from the last foster home I was in, and I was considered a missing person until I turned 18 years old. Throughout my life I had been raped a few times, beat, in and out of programs and all types of things happened. The bruises went away, but the hurtful words of my father and his bride haunted me throughout my life! It wasn't an attack of a stranger, or an enemy, or I may have been able to let it go more easily; but bone of my bone? I thought that parent were supposed to love their children. What is wrong with me that even my own parents didn't love me? Am I unlovable? I've heard many black people blame everything on the white man, but "The white man" didn't give me my bruises. The black man hurt me. I know that hurt has no color, it's effect can hit anyone! I shutter to think about my husband ever calling my daughters whores. This was just last year that I was called a whore by my father. Why? I keep trying to get him to love me, but after all of these years, I guess I should just let it go! I know people may ask why would you keep trying, but I don't have the answer. I don't know why I ache to be loved. Rejection, disappointments, and hurts, are like close relatives to me. By the way my baby brother, he was murdered at the age of thirty in 2006. He wasn't a Saint (at all), but I loved him. That's all I had, I knew he loved me, but maybe I am unlovable. After surviving all this- things has to get better one day- right? I'm believing one day I will be loved!
 Please don't be angry with me if I seem a little mean, just know that I must be going through somethings.  Don't think I want your husband, because I've acted like a whore, - When times are bad I revert back, but I don't want to anymore. Anyone who has been kind to me- What? I've gave that thing up easily. Don't hate me because of my poetic hand, it cries for me, when no one else can. I've acted out, all that he said, and some times,  it's hard for me, to get out of my bed. I know I'm unlovable to some, but I want all to love me, when you see me doing wrong, please don't judge me. My mother?OK, but my baby brother- I felt like dying- check out for yourself if you think I'm lying http://www.app.com/VideoNetwork/51142680001/Rashaan-Lewis-Sentencing-8-28-08-. Lost everything, my job in all, no money in the bank- can't paid my bills, behind in rent, but my God I still thank! I know there is a God, because HE

has been so good to me- blessed me with gifts, can you see? Don't judge me because I believe- if you think, that I think, I'm perfect, then you are deceived. I'm the worst of them all, just shown much grace, as the tears flow from my eyes, I wish you could see my face. Like a President that smoke, so is a christian that is mean and curse- I want to be good, but inwardly I always feel I'm the worst. I feel so dirty, unclean, and ugly- Thank God for the people HE sent to hug me. I don't know how to dress, or act like a lady, if I try to put make-up on, you would really think I was crazy. I respect the Janitors, Fed Ex workers, Shipping and Receiving, Teachers who aren't afraid to hug the children, who they see are bleeding. I respect older women, that pave the way, beautiful, no race or color- who live pass 24- I gave you all my story, need I say more? Please pardon me, if I've ever hurt you- They say, hurting people, hurt people and I believes that's true. As my words stream with tears, one last thing to say, I wouldn't have wanted to live my life any other way. It was through the storms, that I've learned to pray, and it all made me into the woman, that I am today. HE trusted me enough to carry this pain, and in the end, I KNOW it's new life, that I will gain!