What Does It Mean?

Painful

Bitter, metallic, red.

Sad, school, home, bed.

Lost, depressed, caged, gone.

King, queen, bishop, pawn.

My life is a game, you see.

It is the only thing it can be.

Not some happy ending,

never winning...

My heart strings, always bending.

Apparently my every move, sinning.

I cannot last this life without constant fear,

of what is to come and what pain I shall bare.

I cannot stop the flow of words, flow of blood.

Because both are the same in my house,

Both are as worthless as mud.

My voice in this house, only of a mouse.

I try to be happy, I force the smile.

But I always get treated like I need to turn down that dial.

The pain, overbearing for me to handle any longer.

Thus this pain is always making me stronger.

I was soft, as a dove's kin.

But now I am as hard as a Pastor's sin.

God cannot help me in this mortal battle between the evil and not.

God was the only thing I ever sought.

Yet here I am, suffering, grieving, painful.

Who can help a teenager, bid to her emotions as if it was the 1800's.

Don't speak, Don't cry, you are only a kid who shalt die.

But of course they do not know.

Who could such silent parents know their child's struggle?

But of course their new parenting is at an all time low.

My pain they now muffle.

Must blood be spilled to get noticed?

Surely your god cannot dote this?

Must I fling myself off the bridge of life and be caught at the last second to be loved?

No... Because when I speak... I am the only, bugged.

So let the painful memories come.

So let me be insulted every day because I cannot speak.

So let me be the punching bag,

so let me be the only drag in your household!

For I am worth nothing to these sperm and egg donors.

For I am worth nothing to the nagger and the moaner-

about how I do nothing for you.

But that's all I ever do...

All I have ever done,

Is for you.