FIYASHAWTY
Evry move I make's a mistake in ur unfeelin eyes
"Never quite up to standard"'s ur opinion no matter how hard I try
Fury unleashed upon flesh, tha wound tastes so fresh
Wary to assure my emotions dun start to enmesh
Joyous days of sunfilled walks reach tha depths of tha past
Father-daughter bonds are revered as tha ties that will last
But all atachment frays as tha fist hits my skin
If u killed me would I really be missed by my kin?
As u strike u cry out that they hated me always
Leaves can't turn anew cuz we're thru wit tha fall days
Blows that lash my hope further than words could attempt
As ur eyes burn my soul I am drowned by contempt
Pray to pass out so pain numbs, more damage ensues
But sting keeps me alert as tha tears r let loose
Bitter salty emotion's mistaken as insolent rouses
Undeserved punishment turns into ebony bruises
In my mind I recite all of ur reahearsed excuses
Can't bring myself to admit my only father's abusive
Stress, anger, alcohol, tha problems outweigh comprehension
This bloody ritual remains too imposin to mention
Ghastly scars narrate tha story of hopeless devastation
Still nobody could see to ur soul depravation
A deafenin pop as I feel my shoulder's dislocation
My face flushed crimson wit loathin and humiliation
I become less than human as I'm stripped of my worth
So deeply in pain I wish I'd been finished at birth
Nobody to run to, I'm trapped in a prison
As tha pain from ur veins becomes my raw incision
MISTA GRIM
...as i return to my home and set foot in the door...
...i'm not my own person anymore...
...my father is takes ownership by throwing a punch...
...it landed square in my gut and i lost my lunch...
...and then my Mom comes, ready for her turn...
...she grabs the Newports and i tense up for the burn....
...and every time she sears me i learn...
...that they have no love for me and for that i yearn...
....as the ashes drop from the wound into the ominous urn........
...so after they finish they daily anger management class, by whoopin
...i rush to room and wait for the pain to pass...
...i remember the days when everthing was splendid...
...but with every year their care for me hass decended...
...every day since i been in jr. high it's been a daily chore...
...to get abused by the drunk and the whore...
...i can't take one more day of this, what am i living for...
...so i decided that the next day i would take a stand...
...so as i walk in the door from and Dad raises hand...
...i kicked him then swung at his face with a frying pan...
...he lie bleeding on the floor and i yelled in his face...
..."What now, now your the disgrace!"...
...i gave him another kick to the ribs and i tasted revenge...
...and the sweet taste and his rib's break caused me to cringe....
...i was through wit this...i headed for the door to leave...
...then my mother rushed in, and you wouldn't believe...
...she could put two bullets in the one she concieved, just leave-AND NEVER GRIEVE...
