I grew up with a knife in my heart. A black pain that sunk deeper everything he hit me or my mother. He flushes out his insecurities with waves of anger as dark as liquor, he drank himself into hatred and swallowed his anxiety. His buzz consist of drowning us in the emptiness of pain and sorrow. He is one of many who feels as though you must bring down a women to feel like a man, but he doesn't not see that I am not weak. I was taught everything female is less than make but I will rise. He yells with slurred words. The stench of alcohol staining his breathe the way blood stains my clothes and abhorrence stained my mind. I am raising an army within myself, with each blow another solider was created, born from ache and anger. I will no longer call myself your victim. I will crush you! Destroy you with the words that fall from my mouth my power will become evident. My voice will become more deadly then any blow, I will define the impact of every blow but I will not let them you define me! I will bury your soul as deep as the knife in my heart, with the venom from my speech I am your destruction. I am a women and I am not weak...