I write because I was born in a place like hell
Where, I dare tell
Abuse is what my mother chose
After the finishing the bottle the anger arose.
There were usually some scars and bruises
When her state of mind loses
I try to run and hide
But with her long legs she always has a longer stride.
Wishing one day would my life would get better
That she wasn’t my mother and that I had never met her.
Then one day I get put into an orphanage home
Where I have more space to roam.
Sure they are strict and I have hardly any food
But I’m used to it which isn’t that good.
Whats sad is my country more about the drugs and booze
But they don’t realize what they are about to lose.
Their sons and daughters are out there dying
But no one cares or is crying.
So here I am living knowing that I’m all alone
Wishing I had a loving family of my own.
Then one day out of the blue
My family comes and says we’ll adopt you because we love you.
This is why I write
Because maybe scars and bruises show me where I have been
But love shows me where I am going.