I remember what you're going through.
It hasn't slipped my mind.
All the days and nights of struggling.
All the jerks who were unkind.
The screaming of your parents and
their apathy, your tears.
The constant wear and tear that makes you
older than your years.
You see the scars I'm carrying
upon my heart and skin.
I've made the same mistakes before.
You just can't let them win.
So get lost inside your music,
crank those speakers loud,
lift your black-rimmed eyes and snarl.
Wear your scars, be proud!
I'll be here to wipe your tears and
hold your tired hand.
Just remember little sister
some adults do understand.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
I remember what you're going through.
It hasn't slipped my mind.
All the days and nights of struggling.
All the jerks who were unkind.
The screaming of your parents and
their apathy, your tears.
The constant wear and tear that makes you
older than your years.
You see the scars I'm carrying
upon my heart and skin.
I've made the same mistakes before.
You just can't let them win.
So get lost inside your music,
crank those speakers loud,
lift your black-rimmed eyes and snarl.
Wear your scars, be proud!
I'll be here to wipe your tears and
hold your tired hand.
Just remember little sister
some adults do understand.
A sort of open letter written to the teenager I was, and also to all those other misunderstood kids out there.
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