A Story.

When I was eight

things seemed great.

Then one day,

while it rained,

I was first hit

with a fist

of Someone who

I thought I knew,

loved me

for all I could be.

I didn't think twice

about how he use to be nice

or all the empty beer bottles

because now he was hostile.

Cold and mean.

How it was never seen

I do not know.

As I would grow

sadness grew

it was all I knew.

It still is.

I wish he missed.

Fourteen and I started to burn

with a lighter. The word

"Worthless" would not leave my mind.

No time

that went by

could change why.

He left three years ago

but I was now at a low.

Only two months

before a cut

was made.

As tears came

I didn't care.

The pain was there,

physically and mentally.

Unhealthily,

it continues.

An issue

I still deal with.

A year later

I was still a creator

of scars,

and hoping to be run over by a car.

I met her

and it stirred

all emotions in me.

I forgot about bullying,

the misuse,

and abuse.

I have those memories

inside of me.

So when the world falls to pieces

she's the one I believe in.

But even when sadness

creates madness

she can't always help

with the pain felt.

Slit wrists

with a broken kiss.

We feel it's the only way to escape

this so called fate

of a life with self hate.

So many people like me

just trying to be

okay.

Maybe live to see another day.

Beaten and bruised,

misused and abused.

It's not okay

to live this way.

We try to survive

without a why.

We have no reason to live,

yet we continue to give,

all of ourselves

to somebody else.

Who doesn't care

and will never be there.

We continue to fight

with all our might.

Yet we are down on the ground

all bound

for something worse

than this curse,

called life.