I’m not evil.
I just never shrank back
When they started
Calling me evil.
And sure I made some mistakes
As a child;
But I didn’t have much of a childhood
In fact as a child
I was made to feel
Like a mistake.
So here is a story I am trying to tell
With all eloquence.
Perhaps not with as much clarity
As a prose writer
But back then this story
It was my reality.
I’m not claiming to be victim
Or victor.
I’m still trying to sort it out
Pretend there was some eloquence.
Not so much trying to rewrite history
But wondering if I can cope a little better
If I tell it a bit differently;
Because I know at this point
A happy or sad ending
For me will depend on
If I’m able to give myself
The beginning I never had.
They might call that evil, too.