Cracked

Childhood; not a concept I understand

Usually with youth it goes hand in hand

But not for some of us, the innocence is stolen

Those of us still standing, I think we are the chosen

Put in situations those our age were never meant to be

The ugly side of the world was our reality

But we never broke, though our souls became quite cracked

Each one reminding us of everything we lacked

But we filled those cracks with gold, and kept ourselves whole

Our souls are now a work of art; daringly unique and exquisitely beautiful