I can't talk to anybody,
I feel like nobody understands,
So I pick up some paper and grab me a pen.
You see me smile, but if you only knew
The things that I hold onto
And just can't seem to let go.
I know I must forgive, and I said that I do,
But I don't really think that I actually do.
Forgive my mother, my uncle, stepdad, and aunt's boyfriend
For the pain they put me through as a kid.
I spoke up, no one listened.
So it continued on and I just didn't mention
The things that went on in the middle of the night.
It happened before, so maybe it's all right.
At 5, at 8, at 9 and 10.
Over and over and over again.
She caught him, forgave, got married, 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 when I spoke when I was younger,
No one heard me.
So you tell me, WHAT THE HECK DO I DO,
When that voice in my head keeps saying,
You're wasting your time, no one cares about you.
I can't shake that, I've believed that my whole life.
I'm just glad that God gave me a pen, paper, and the ability to write.
'Cause when I feel like no one hears me,
I just write.
