I write because I was born in a place like hell

Where, I dare tell

Abuse is what my mother chose

After the finishing the bottle the anger arose.

There were usually some scars and bruises

When her state of mind loses

I try to run and hide

But with her long legs she always has a longer stride.

Wishing one day would my life would get better

That she wasn’t my mother and that I had never met her.

Then one day I get put into an orphanage home

Where I have more space to roam.

Sure they are strict and I have hardly any food

But I’m used to it which isn’t that good.

Whats sad is my country more about the drugs and booze

But they don’t realize what they are about to lose.

Their sons and daughters are out there dying

But no one cares or is crying.

So here I am living knowing that I’m all alone

Wishing I had a loving family of my own.

Then one day out of the blue

My family comes and says we’ll adopt you because we love you.

This is why I write

Because maybe scars and bruises show me where I have been

But love shows me where I am going.