I've been used,
beaten,
pinned to the ground.

I've been slapped,
ignored,
forgotten.

Yet I still have a smile plastered on my face.

I've been pushed around,
been used as a punching bag,
and lonely.

I've been insulted,
rejected,
made fun of.

It's rare that I laugh,
but I seldom lack a smile.

My past has shaped me in ways I never thought could happen.

I can be alone,
I can be grateful,
I can be happy.

I don't have to worry about my past anymore,
but rather focus on my future.

Beating up is how I feel today,
since I grasp to be really sleepy.
Perceiving needing to then pray,
it's sad: I'm sensing, really ******.

I'm keeping my head up, slowly,
because I'm enduring to be tired.
Having me then did feel *****,
I don't need my parents, required.

Holding up my really slow head,
is really, just indeed, truly hard.
I’d thought to stay back in bed,
but Mom and Dad will not guard.

I don’t know why I'm so drained.
Washed-out is how I currently feel.
It’s hard to keep my wiped brain.
That's how I hope that it can heal.

Sometimes I wonder,
would it be better
if I just left?

I have little to nothing
chaining me to this world,
just a few things that I honestly won't miss.

The people here don't like me,
and I don't have anywhere else to go.

But I'm still here.

I have a chance that so many people have lost,
out of accident
or on purpose.

I have a chance to leave a legacy behind that would make me proud,
a chance to make the world a better place when I leave
than when I came into it.

That's the only reason why I haven't left.

I have a chance
that people would die for,
and I'm about to throw it away.

Sooner or later,
the weight of my choices might be too much to bear,
but for now,
I'm still here.

I remember the one of the worst parts of being in school,
I was used.

I believed that I loved this boy,
a popular, funny boy,
and he was my world.

I usually watched from afar,
until one day he came up to me.

He asked me if I could help him on his homework.
I ended up doing it for him,
but I was so happy.

Eventually, I just kept doing his homework,
and he'd lead me on.

Giving me hugs,
calling me sweet names,
sitting close to me.

But I realized that I had nothing,
he would just talk to my friends,
and only talk to me when he wanted me to do something.

He'd never let me have anything,
and I regret not seeing it sooner.

I'm not saying that my parents were bad parents,
but
I think they have some flaws.

My childhood was rough,
I was soft and my parents didn't seem to like that.
Granted, they didn't seem to like me in general.

I had little to no support from them,
at one point I was left home and feverish for a week,
starving and dehydrated in bed.

I could tell they liked my brother more,
but I accepted that from birth.

They'd talk trash behind my back,
to other adults,
to other children,
to my brother.

I didn't idolize my older brother,
and for a while I had despised him.
But I realized that it wasn't really his fault
that my parents had loved him more.

I could feel that others felt pity for me,
but had other things to do than help me.
But who could blame them?

Now I'm not expert,
but I'm not sure how that's how parents are supposed to be.

I don't know what I've done,
but it's come back.

I thought I've escaped,
but I'm still here.

Why?

I wish I could run,
run away from all these feelings,
but I can't.

I thought that I've hardened,
that I could take it on again,
but I can't.

I feel so
empty.

I feel so empty
that I want to cry,
but I can't.

I feel so hollow in side,
that if someone knocked on me,
you'd hear a drumming sound inside.

I'm not sure if I can go through this again,
the first time nearly broke my will to live,
I don't know what to do this time.

I just have to hope for the best.