Picture a boy, broken, with tears in his eyes,
A boy, hand clutching his heart, looking up to the skies,
Wondering why, he was there being fed all these lies,
He looks to the sky once again and he sits and he cries,
Why did he have to go through this shit? Was it Destiny or fate?
It turned his life upside down, all his thoughts turned to hate,
It had ridden him of his soul, of his whole inside,
Sudden tears filled his eyes and once again he cried,
His mum had gone into hospital with manic depression,
He couldn't talk to no one, he yearned to make a confesion,
Perhaps to his friends, but he couldn't bring himself to it,
There was hell in front of him and he was walking right through it,
He wanted them to think he led a normal life,
He couldn't tell them to his wrist he nearly brought a knife,
How to relieve his pain? He couldn't solve the riddle,
His parents marriage was the shits and he was stuck in the middle,
Of all the hate, domestics and just straight out violence,
He wanted to say something to someone, but all he thought of was silence,
He couldn't relieve the pain, there was nothing he could have said,
His mum was in a hospital, sanity glazed, good as dead,
A year on he's moved on, everything has gotten better,
His parents have broke up as if his father never met her,
But how could he care when his mum had gotten better?
Though the wounds will never heal, they will scar his soul forever,
Now how do you think that little boy now turned out to be?
Well you should know because that little boy was me.
Reply With Quote
).