My Bully is Me

The way "they" mock me just isn't fair, the way "they" used to pull my hair. I'd run home and cry and scream, at all the misery that's deep inside of me. "They" have always called me names, I became immune..... I began to believe what "they" said was true. I would go and cry in my room, drowning in my tears, I would beg and plead, asking God to take me...please. Afraid to socialize, what "they" deprived was deep inside. A warrior wound that cannot be hidden, I felt forbidden, that anyone would ever listen. They asked me why, but I would just break down and cry. The mark cannot be reversed, what "they" did really hurt. I never grew out of my shell, you couldn't imagine the pain I felt. I always believed what "they" said was the truth, the heartache I had could never be soothed. "They" spoke the truth, it doesn't take a sleuth. The abuse never stopped, my happiness--swapped. If only I could see, my bully... is me.