Why was I born?
Was there ever a time that you loved me...even a little.
The crimson stripes of hell, compliments of a leather belt.
You curse the day that I was born,
As my clothes were being torn.
You repeated so many times what a stupid moron I was.
You couldn't stand the sight of me.
As the anger in you grew.
Your insults, they flew.
I couldn't do anything right.
Always fighting morning, noon and night.
The words cut me like a razor.
You said I was lazy and worthless
You repeated it over and over until I believed it too.
Fists flying upon my head, as you dragged me from my bed.
You kicked me awake, making my whole body shake.
You took my childhood, my confidence and self-esteem.
I went on and lived my life the best I could; carrying my own baggage of emotional scars that you inflicted on me.
