Like the times I got beaten so bad I didn’t move, or all the tears I cried the nights I felt blue. I remember the pain when those boys played “that game” and when the one thing I wanted to give away ended being stolen on those cold darkened days.
I remember when I hurt the boy with the scissors one night because he tried to touch me, did I do what was right? I remember when I lost all of my faith, when I felt God Had forgotten me. I remember how deep I cut my body to take away my pain. I remember when emotions disappeared from my soul, and all I had left was the metal knife I could hold. The blood that poured out carried my pains.
I told my parents About the “Boys”, They say its my own fault and that They hate me.
I’m going to kill myself tonight, But before i go one last question mom and dad do you still hate me as much as I do?