Handy

Something I wrote when I ran away from home regarding my childhood.

Ask how I have these skills, and I'll tell you

My reasons are how I grew

Absent parents, absent life

That's how I spent my time 

So I looked to strangers

I watched many people while growing up.

That's how I gathered these skills you call "luck"

Skills are useful, but I would give it all back,

because there is something I lack

A childhood 

I learned and grew with no family or friends

Every relationship was a dead end

I was too different

Call me handy, useful, or skilled

But if I got to be normal I'd be thrilled

People only talk to me for services and skills

Not to live life's thrills

I can fix anything but my life 

Author's Note

I am not a real writer. This is just stuff from a notebook I kept when I ran away from a lot of stuff and took off across the state jumping from state park to state park. I'm basically illiterate and have no Idea what I'm doing.

Reviews

[Carol Cashes]

Illiterate, my a**! Well executed and knowing the background behind this cements its meaning. If you write words and someone reads them, you are a real writer. That is all. Keep posting. If that was just jots from your notebook, what other little gems are in there?