Young girl just believe there is another feeling beside feeling sad,
young girl just try to be yourself.
Young girl who sits alone please cheer up your making me sad.
young girl I care.
I care your hurt.
I use to be like this to but I have survived.
I thrived on these poems and I use think I was pretty good.
I use to write them every time I had a shit day or just in a bad mood.
I use to need some one to think I was special to have self confidence.
Or even to walk with my head held high.
But after that I realise that there was much more than this.
much more than sad, depressed and angry emanations.
I have survived the long and hurtful road and I tell you now I couldn�t believe I did.
And I couldn�t wait until I reach that point.
Now I look back and I feel so proud from everything I have been through in my life, I think back and remember those days when I wouldn�t wake up in the morning because I would hear yelling and screaming so I would stay in bed and wait for a better day.
Sometimes that day would come quick and others not so soon.
But what I remember the most was the poems and the truth they lied buried in them.
The truth that could shatter another happy family.
The affair of a married man to other married women what pain must it would of caused to there family like it had done to ours.
I couldn�t tell them, even if I hated them. I still wouldn�t.
I couldn�t go through that knowing that those kids are going through the same pain as me.
I couldn�t I have thought about doing but I have never gone through with it.
But what hurts the most is that little girl was me.
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