17 parts Ongoing MatureI'm not like them.
I can't relate to them, they can't relate to me.
We grew up in diffrent households
Theirs with lost of love, charm, paranthood and trust
Mine is not alike. AT ALL.
I grew up with broken glass everywhere, constant baby cry, abuse and death.
I don't recognize love.
I never had.
But it's not my fault.
It's hers, she's the reason of everything.
Every step I took, every breath I made was for her
And she crushed me down so I couldn't breath
And even then I wanted to breathe. Not for me, but her.