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Trish May 2017
If I could, I'd rewire
The tormented brain I've been intrusted with
But this soul is so tired.
And there nothing I can do to fix this.

Was I born so sick?
Was it something I had done
What makes this brain tick
Why is all emotion gone

It's empty. And silent
No joy. No pain
The complete numbness Of a shattered personality
And nobody ever has to pay

I was beaten and starved
Molested time and time again
Made to believe that I was alone
By a man who was never a man

I grew up in such a corrupted city
People make jokes about the ghetto
But it isn't so funny
when you've been shot up by the metro

Nobody knows my story.
Only the parts I choose to share
It's actually quiet tragic
And there's no one who can compare

Same **** everyday
Bitterness. Hatred. Anger. fear
I was Just a helpless soul
But the people chose not to hear

Because then they can ignore the problem
The selfishness of a parent
But damage and suffering
It was so appearent

They should be ashamed
For turning a blind eye
To something so devastating
It could make Jesus cry

I didn't succumb to my past
I built something new
I made a brighter path
And it had nothing to do with you.

I made it on my own.
I beat the statistics
Where is my pat on the back?
God I must've missed it

Or did it even come?
A society so broken
All they really care about is money
And rolexs.

Shame on them.
For allowing the torment
It should've come to an end
But now I'm numb.

So really what's the point
There is no up or down
Why shouldn't I roll a joint
And just let it all go?

Maybe do something harsher.
Heroine or *******
Nobody really cares
I'll never be the same

What's the point of this life
Constantly running
From a past I had no control over
Please tell me isn't it funny.

I have all the consequence
For everyone else's actions
I might as well sit back
And let disaster happen

— The End —