Fighter

A child I am not
A woman I am trying to be
For even before I was an adolescent
I had the heart of an adult
My childhood I was robbed
For reasons unknown
I was chosen to suffer
At the hands of an uncle
Who saw in his beady black eyes
A child ripe & young
So full of life
Ready to live & thrive
and to him ripe for the picking
I took the abuse
And I survived
Perhaps just to spite him
For I would not let him cause me
To wither & die
No, just to spite him
I grew & thrived