Last night, I dreamt of a little child, never saw this child in waking life, never saw your skin, never touched your cheek. I looked at you as you walked by, wondering of your life. I went to find the biggest something to bludgeon you with. In an empty lot, branches rested all scattered like broken glass after a massacre. I chose two to carry out my ill intentions, nothing but malice filled the air in a thick smoke of grey. I searched and searched for you, but you were nowhere to be found. You poofed in the smoke of my malice, only I didn't realize. In all of us is a little child. The little child in us yearns for the will to be free, but we hold them captive and wonder why we can't grow up. This little child was robbed of what children think about, like what toys she wants for Christmas. She was forced to think of other things no child should contemplate at 8, like what losing your virginity must be like. This little child had more sleepless nights than every sequel of Nightmare on Elm Street, except my Freddy can in multiples, slicing away at my peace of mind, slandering my livelihood. I should've only been curious of sexual acts following along with puberty, but instead, this little child was more immersed than the average adult. This little child drew out her thoughts in second grade class. Two people making love on a skinny bed frame. Now where did this little child learn to be that vivid with a pencil? She wasn't creative, she was damaged before she even knew what the word meant. This little child fought for her way to the light time and time again. This little child was touched more than a pastor laying hands of anointence. She was wondering why people called to God while laying on their backs and figured it was cause they wanted to get up, but didn't know how. This little child grew to become the one calling God, but she loved it. This little child was robbed once more when rape was a scape for another little child. This little child didn't care for booze until she resisted therapy, wanted to self medicate as an excuse for being violated so violently. This little child threw back shots and back shots until her mind was numb to what she tried to forget.....until this little was tired of being tested more than a store mattress. To everyone in this room, the little child in you can't break free if you don't loosen your grip. Make peace with the little child in you. It's ok to grieve the little child cause it is your God given right, but you can't grow up and go out and enjoy life if the little child misplaces the keys to your freedom. Inhale, exhale......... now let go.