They say it's a phase, that I'll be alright. They don't realize I can't stand another fight. I will not cry. I'd rather die than show my weakness to the world. Few crawl close to my heart. Hopeless, a lost cause, I'm lost on my way. The road of life gives me trouble each and every day. How much more can I take? Who the hell knows? We'll just have to see and watch how it goes. Alone, with no trust, and hurt pretty bad. They all wonder why I'm always so mad. As a child, all I ever wanted to do was please Daddy Dear. But in our power-play, he beat me into fear. I tried to find love in the darkest of hearts, only to get myself shredded apart. Beaten, ravaged, and raped by that one, there isn't a cure left under the sun but the love and healing in the arms of another. Thrown out by my grandpa, left on my own, I'm afraid to walk this world alone. Where will I sleep? Where will I eat? When will I befall my final defeat? And sitting here, writing this letter, I know that this life will not get any better. The golden years were spent getting beat. Growing up, I've sustained the heat. Now as I crash, and crumble to dust, my heart, once golden, is left to rust. Misunderstood and unloved with no where to turn, I prepare my ashes to lie in the urn. Unless you've been here, you don't know what it
can be, and if you're lucky, you'll never have to see.