The first time I was attacked I was nine years old

They liked to call me an 'it'

And blamed me for killing the class plants growing by the windowsill.

Later on in the year my teacher left the room for ten minutes

The entire class started making fun of me

For reasons I can't even remember now.

They called me names

Stupid,

Shortie,

Spaz,

Loser,

Weirdo,

A freak.

Screaming names at a nine year old on the playground

Is a lot more harmful then you think.

When you're nine years old and always being told your worthless

By the people you called friends three days prior

All you really want to do is die.

How messed up is it

At nine years old to have a death wish

So even though I may not be in top physical shape

Though my muscles may be small

Don't you ever dare ever call me weak

Because I did not lay down and die

I did not give up

I am strong!

Don't tell me to walk through a hospital

To put my pain in perspective

Because though I may not be laying in a hospital bed

I am still being attacked my myself

But instead of tumors it's my own mind

Telling me how often I am worthless and unwanted.

Every day I live with the notion

That I am not nor will I ever be good enough.

Every morning I put on my boxing gloves

And go seven rounds with my own heart

Punching and kicking my own emotions

As if we're in the mists of a MMA fight

The prize being that I get to live another day

With my smile being half genuine.

I don't always win.

But don't you dare call me weak

Until you know what it's like

To ach everyday

To pull a blade across your skin

Just so you can feel something else for once

Even if it is just another aching

At least this one you created.

This one you can control.

So don't call me weak

For I know that I am anything but.

Because I have the battle scars to show it

I know every morning when I wake up

That it may be another fight

But this is my life

And I'm not going to let

Myself

Of all the people on this planet

be the reason that it ends.

So I wake up every morning

And put on my metaphorical boxing gloves

To go a few rounds inside of my own mind.

I'm fighting for that nine year old girl

To let her know

Her suffering

My suffering

Was not for nothing.