Confessions of a broken heart.
She looks in the mirror,
hating what she sees.
She isn't beautiful,
she doesn't believe she will ever be.
She wears lot of black,
the color of her soul.
Her heart is shattered,
like a broken bowl.
She has few friends,
she is an outcast.
She isn't popular,
she never has.
Her mother is dead,
father a drunk.
She could remember the first time she came home to him,
her heart sunk.
He would beat her,
and slap her.
Hurt her,
abuse her.
She'd sit in her room,
cry her heart out.
Cut her wrists,
bleed from the inside out.
One day she came home,
her father drunk as hell.
He slapped her face hard,
she could taste blood and feel her lip begin to swell.
She tried to get away,
but he was way to strong.
He grabbed her neck,
his fingers were long.
She couldn't breath,
she saw a light.
She was on her way to heaven,
she had given up the fight.
God took her with open arms,
telling her she would never hurt again.
She hugged him back,
she was happy again.
She would never hurt,
or have her heart broken again.
For she was happy,
now, not then.
She was never going to leave,
for she wanted to stay.
She saw her mother at the gates and ran to her with open arms,
crying the whole way.
