Raised with pain and bruises,
A victim of child abuse;
She’d look me in the eyes,
And call it ‘love in disguise’.
The nights I spent in moans,
Bleeding body, broken bones;
Her gift of countless whips,
Whips that never left her hips.
To make friiends I wasn’t allowed,
I couldn’t scream out loud;
She’d hit me against the wall,
And down the stairs I’d fall.
I was alive but living in hell,
No siblings, no friends to tell;
And at the age of seven,
I began dreaming of heaven.
I once hung a rope on my head,
Thinking I were better off dead;
No loving memories to cherish,
Left with my mother to perish.
She was meant to be my loving mama,
Maybe it was her childhood trauma;
She was always distant and sad,
Maybe it was the death of dad.
She would say she did it for love,
But who hurts their own beloved?
She would watch my tears roll,
Making me a damaged whole.
Now she’s behind bars,
And yet I bear the scars
With me at all times;
This is my story told in rhymes.