I was seven…
when life didn’t ask for permission.
It just took everything.
School stopped.
Childhood stopped.
And I became something I never applied for
a parent in a child’s body.
Three siblings looked at me
like I had answers.
Like I knew how to fix a broken home.
But in reality I didnt,
I was just surviving
in a role I didn’t choose
but couldn’t escape.
I learned responsibility
before I learned identity.
Food instead of freedom.
Pressure instead of play.
Survival
And my father passed away.
And I didn’t get time to fall apart.
No space to cry properly.
No room to understand loss.
Just silence…
and expectations.
So I buried it.
I called it strength
but it was really suppression.
I grew up carrying grief
I never got to name.
Years passed…
but pain doesn’t expire.
It just waits
for you to finally slow down
and feel it
And now it’s here.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Worse.
Real.
It shows up in memories that sting too deep.
In nights where everything gets heavy for no reason.
In moments where I realise—
I didn’t just lose my father.
I lost my childhood too.
Because I wasn’t a daughter grieving.
I was a child surviving
like an adult
before I even understood life.
And now it hits different…
because I finally understand
what it cost me.
And it hurts.
But it’s honest.
And I can’t unfeel it anymore.
-
Author:
Zelda Vanrooyen (
Offline) - Published: May 8th, 2026 06:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Fränz Müller, Zelda Vanrooyen
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Comments2
A poem of a tough life and being robbed of childhood. Well written
Thank you soo much.
For your support and comments
This really means a lot.
You are most welcome Zelda
Quite powerful. An amazing poem
Thank you soo much.
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