The beginning...

Everyone is born with a fresh start.
In a world that's being torn apart.
Mine was alittle less then interesting.
Four years old I found myself living by one string.
Being beatin every other night.
This is no way to start a life.
For years it seemed like my mom wasn't ever there.
And in truth, I don't think she really cared.
It didn't matter her only son was getting beat.
She just pretended she couldn't see.
Fear in the eyes of her only son.
Staring in disbelief for what she just had done.
Tears begin to stream.
The belt goes up and he starts to scream.
But mommy can't hear you.
It doesn't matter what you do.
His sister cries.
There are tears in his eyes.
Where the belt hit it burns.
But with every tear the beating gets worse.
The bottle of whiskey sits on the table.
His little sister is crying from the cradle.
His only reason for being alive.
Without her he would have by now died.
He loves her with everything he had.
If that's the case then why does he get hit so bad.
From his front to his back.
Bruises that are blue and black.
Nobody can tell how bad it hurts.
But then again they can't see through his shirt.
At home an argument breaks out and the father figure wins.
That is how my life begins...