For The Love Of A Child

It's like suffocating,

Or drowning,

Or choking,

Having to bite your tongue and not get a say.

 

It's like hell, 

Looking at your scarred wrists and knowing why they are there.

Knowing that those scars are there because of your parents.

The people who are supposed to love you, 

Care for you,

Listen to you.

 

But no.

They don't listen,

They don't help,

They don't care,

They leave you for dead....

 

And that hurts worse than the razor blade does.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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