Before I really knew my parents, When I was very young,
My journey towards this wounded life, had already begun.
I didn't have perspective, Didn't know another life.
So I took my clues for living, From the things within my sight.
They tried their best, To be perfect for us kids.
But they passed on their behaviors, Without knowing that they did.
And even though they struggled, not to pass it on again.
In time they became: What their parents must have been.
I vowed not to be, like my parents to my kids.
I swore as I got older, Not to do the things they did.
I would give my kids examples, Of the proper way to live.
Always show them how to handle, Anything that life could give.
I tried my best, To be perfect for my kids,
But I passed on my behaviors, Without knowing that I did.
And even trying not to, Hurt my kids like I had been,
Just like my folks before me, I found I had become like them.
Can we ever break this cycle, Passing on the wounds from birth?
Will there ever come a healing, To this scarred and broken earth?
Are we destined to an ending, That embraces only pain?
Can our children learn to love? Will there ever be a change?
Even though our best wasn't good enough, it seems,
That this circle of confusion, Can't continue endlessly.
Will there be a great awakening? Will the way at last be clear?
Will God help us to discover, How to get to there from here.
We must try our best, To be honest with our kids.
Let them know at times we stumble, Show them how to try again.
Teach them to accept each other. Give each one a second chance.
We are all in this together. Wounded kids of wounded kids.