Can you tell me why I constantly keep losing sleep over everything that shouldn't bother me.
Tell me why nightmares await behind my eyelids,
So I fight to keep my eyes open for days,
Knowing that I'll lose this fight and the tears will come in like a wave to wash everything on shore away. shore that I promised I was OK and wished away.
 
Tell me why my stomach aches at the thought of 3 meals a day when it's hard for me to get one down.
Because one down brings me to my knees where the toilet bowl becomes my throne and I become the queen of purging.
And everyone who claims to understand tells me to just eat and don't think about the food that sits inside of that empty pit you call a tummy.
But it's not that easy.
 
Can you please explain why this thing we call life feels like a constant battle between love and hate,
I can't seem to figure out rather I'm the good guy or the enemy.
What is the explanation for me staying up past bed time,
writing rhymes and trying not to cry because my father told me that I am weak and I want nothing more than for him to be proud of me.
He tells me I'm a big girl so I purge to shed the pounds away.
He tells me you're not very sharp girl,
so I go to school for more than 5 hours a day to try to educate my brain so that I can begin to become the daughter he always wanted.
 
 
You can tell me that I'm wrong,
You can tell me that I'm strong,
You can tell me that the hurt doesn't last forever,
Or someone will come along and make it better, but no one ever seems to be able to tell me what I want to know.

Instead I get the knowledge of what you want me to know, because that will help me get to places you want me to go.
But no one ever asks me what I want and it hurts you know?
It hurts because while I'm struggling and battling my mind,
Tiptoeing around trying not to step on the landmines that seem to be my parents temper,
I find myself losing control again.
I'm letting go again because holding on is what seems to **** me over in the end.
 
So I wish it would all just end.
So maybe finally I can sleep.
Maybe finally the demons will stop haunting me.
Maybe then I'll learn to keep it all down and to not hold it all in.
And learn the true definition of strong instead of lying about it again.
And maybe my dad will accept me, and the hurt won't be so strong and one day I'll find a place where I truly belong but today I continue fighting and today I will let my brain expand.
Maybe one day I'll wake up and I'll begin to understand.
But tonight I'm not safe and this nightmare I'm trying to escape makes my heart ache and I begin losing sight but I'm growing a backbone and slowly crawling towards the light.
 
I believe that I can win this fight, I believe in the end everything will be alright. 
And pretty soon I will win this awful war we call life.

4 times.
I had to repeat the story 4 times.
4 times I had to say how the man I called my uncle touched me in ways a little girl should never be touched.
Each time I told the story I remembered every little detail that I spent late nights crying myself to sleep trying to forget.
I cried a little harder each time because each time I could feel his rough hands touching all over my body,
telling me that he would reward me if I was good.
I was 10 years old and back then a reward sounded good,
a reward just to let him touch me sounded like the easiest thing to do.
And even  though it wasn't the easiest thing to do,
I kept telling myself at the end you will get a reward.
I was a naïve little thing,
It was no one's fault but my own,
Every time he offered me a reward,
I never said no.
I never pushed him away,
I never screamed for help,
I never told my daddy,
even though he always asked.
It continued for 3 more years,
My temple was destroyed,
and I felt like I was beginning to rot.
Every other thought in my head was either a ****** or suicidal thought.
What did I do?
What did I do?
What did I do?
How could you?
I trusted you!
I loved you!
He destroyed me,
He took away all my innocence,
piece by piece,
little by little,
he completely destroyed my ******* mental process
and 3 years later,
when I finally cried for help,
I had to relive that terrible moment 4 times
I told my counselor and she called my mom,,
my mom was mad because I didn't tell her first,
I didn't tell her what he had done,
because I was afraid of the outcome
Then she told my dad,
and I could see the heartbreak in his eyes,
he disowned his brother for breaking his little girl inside.
And then I had to go to the authorities,
and the authorities bestowed fear in me.
The authorities recorded me
and questioned me
as if I wasn't the victim,
as if this was some made up story in my head.
And now they wonder why I wish I was dead,
because I can't enjoy ***,
because every time I'm touched I flinch
every time I am complimented I brush it off,
because to me I am not beautiful
How can I be beautiful when he made me feel so ugly.
When he broke all my barriers every time he touched me.
Now I am depressed,
and at the slightest mention of ***
I panic.
Because I am scared.
Because *** to me is nothing but pain.
My body clenches and I shy away,
because even though I know everyone is not the same,
*** to me, brings nothing but pain
The memories haunt me and the nightmares await.
I don't want to continue living life this way.
But I know that even though I smile the pain away,
deep down inside,
I will never be okay.

Depression.
It storms in at any time it wants
Kind of like when my step dad used to come home at crazy hours of the day drunk out of his mind.
It takes over your life and controls you, forcing you to do whatever it wants you to,
Just like that guy my mom stayed with after countless attacks, she still stayed.

It's kind of funny actually because I was so young when everything happened.
All the signs were there, but no one could see them.
But I could.

No one noticed the signs when at only 9 years old, my uncle ***** me and I became super distant from my father growing up, in fear that another guy I trusted would hurt me.

No one noticed how closed off I became when my mom stayed with Joseph after he hurt her so many times.  I never understood how she could stay with someone who traumatized her child. Maybe she doesn't  really love me as much as I thought she did.

No one noticed the cuts on my arms and legs that I permanently carved into my skin after not knowing what else to do with the awful feelings that I felt inside.

How could the people who were so caught up in me living my life the way they wanted not notice the ******* signs.

All the weight I lost, they praised me for it.
Saying things like “Oh my god, you've lost weight..”
“You look so good.”
But they didn't even notice the reason for it.
They didn't notice my loss of appetite or that I forced myself to throw up at any time that I could.

It really makes me think,
People always say how much they care and how much they love you
but they don't even see the things that are wrong right under their noses.

They just assume that I'm some happy go lucky girl who has this bright *** futrue in front of her
but they don't see the struggle it took me to get where I am.
They don't see the hours that I put in trying to make sure I graduate high school and not fall into some typical black kid statistics.

They don't see the smile that I constantly plaster on my face so that my little sisters don't ask me why I cried myself to sleep last night, so that my mom doesn't have to stress more than she already does, staying up worrying about me.

They don't see that the broken pieces of this “perfect, happy girl” have been duct taped and glued back together more times than I can count on my own fingers and toes.

These people don't care about me,
these people only see what they want to see.
They only tell me what they want me to believe.

I'm all alone.
No matter how many people surround me in this room.
I'm on my own,
no matter how many people tell me that they understand and that they're here for me.

This life is hell,
I'm in a living nightmare.

I'm so sick and tired of people telling me it gets better.
I'm so tired of crying and no tears come out because I've cried every last drop of moisture left.

Everyday I scream for help and no one hears me.
I tried to tell my mom, she didn't listen.
I can't bring myself to tell my dad because I'm afraid.

I've caused my parents so much stress and I don't want to see them stress anymore.
I don't want to be the reason that people are unhappy.

So this is what I have to do,
I'm going to stop eating until I just shed away.
I'm going to stop talking because I have nothing left to say.

I've made it this far but I can't see the bright side anymore.
I give up!!
I can't anymore,
I'm all out of tries.
This is not a good bye,
it's just the beginning of the end of my life long struggle of suicide.