A dirty house but not a home.

Fighting, thieving, unfortunate parents.

I'm embarrassed to call them my own.

Ashamed of the walls, the scratches and the dents.

No one knows my hidden past, the secrets I will not tell.

Dad is always yelling, pointing out everything I've done wrong.

Sometimes I feel as though there was a mixup, and I ended up in Hell.

It's getting more and more difficult to stay strong.

My suicide attempts and cutting will forever haunt my soul.

I hide behind good grades and every book in sight.

No one would have ever guessed that my childhood is what they stole.

But honesty right now, hiding is too much, and I'm ready to give up the fight.


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