The Things Done To Me
I'm three years old and I can't speak
about the things my mama does
I caught her once
she held a knife
trying to slice my daddy's life
People say she's nice
but they don't know
the things my mom does
when we're alone
I'm six years old
I want to die
the world's betrayed me
one to many times
tonight I hide behind a shelf
dad is hurt, my brother's punched
They don't know and they don't see
the the things my mom has done to me
I'm nine years old
a bit depressed
heavy weight stuck on my chest
I've met two girls
they act like me
but they don't know and they don't see
by day I'm fine, by night I bleed
I'm twelve years old and at last I speak
about the things that I have seen
I've starved myself, I've cut my wrist
but now I'm finally snapping out of it
I have nice friends
they stand by me
catch me when I fall, patch me up when I bleed
and I know I'm not alone, not in the least
at last I have hope
for a future that's bright