Punching Bag


Black eye, bruised ribs
Bloody nose, throbbing head
Punching bag for the school
How could anyone be so cruel?
Everyone sees but refuses to help
The familiar darkness creeps in,
As they pound on my head
Twelve years old and wishing I was dead
Everyday the same question,
"Will today be the day?"
Bruised and weak, ready to give up and accept defeat
To end it all and stop my heartbeat
But never give up, lift yourself up and look them in the eyes
Because ten years will pass and they'll be in their Mom's basement getting high
No life, no friends, just a needle, line, or pipe
They'll be wishing they could die
And you'll be free for the rest of your life



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