So, this is actually an extremely shitty poem. Idk if I should put a trigger warning or something considering it hints at (verbal) abuse and rape. So, yeah. Coolio.
I can't talk to anybody, I feel like nobody understands. So, I just pick up some paper and grab myself a pen. You always see my smile, but not the things I hold onto. And just can't seem to let go of. I know I must forgive, and I say I do. But I don't think I'm able to forgive my grandfather and uncle for the pain they put me through. I spoke up, many listened, but nothing happened. So it continued and I just didn't mention the things that happened throughout the day and in the night. It happened before, so maybe it's alright. At 5, at 8, at 9 and 10. Over and over and over again. She caught him, forgave him, and got with him again. Nothing changed. I'm over it now, I really am. I think about it every now and then. Have trouble sleeping at night. I laugh about it now, especially when I used to sleep with a knife. I know the only way to get over it is to open up and speak. But, whenever I do that, everyone seems def. They all just ignore me. So you tell me, what the hell do I do? When I hear that voice saying "No one cares" and then "I love you"? I can't shake that. I've been taught to believe my peers, and so I do. I'm just glad I was given a paper and pen. So when everyone becomes def, they're still able to hear me in the end.
Don't @ me. I don't make up this shit for attention. I don't even make this shit up. Fuck you too. Bai.
