The Things Done To Me

I'm three years old and I can't speak

about the things my mama does

I caught her once

she held a knife

trying to slice my daddy's life

People say she's nice

but they don't know

the things my mom does

when we're alone

I'm six years old

I want to die

the world's betrayed me

one to many times

tonight I hide behind a shelf

dad is hurt, my brother's punched

They don't know and they don't see

the the things my mom has done to me

I'm nine years old

a bit depressed

heavy weight stuck on my chest

I've met two girls

they act like me

but they don't know and they don't see

by day I'm fine, by night I bleed

I'm twelve years old and at last I speak

about the things that I have seen

I've starved myself, I've cut my wrist

but now I'm finally snapping out of it

I have nice friends

they stand by me

catch me when I fall, patch me up when I bleed

and I know I'm not alone, not in the least

at last I have hope

for a future that's bright




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