the first time i prayed i was 4 i asked god to not let father hurt mother but the next morning i walked into the kitchen greeted by pancakes and my mother with a black eye i remember how mad i was at father for hurting my mother at mother for staying there at myself for not helping when i heard the yelling at 3 am and at god himself for not protecting my mother my precious mother
mother took me to church every sunday and at 5 years old the pastor dunked me in a pool full of water he said he was washing away my sins and i remembered how hard i cried when i lied to my mother the next day about putting away my toys because now all the sin was back and i was scared i would never get a chance to wash it away again but the truth is it never left
at 6 years old my father took me to church on sunday instead of my mother he said she didn't feel good i watched as my father walked to the front of the church when everyone began to leave to go home and he began to scream and cry and pound his fists on the aulter then he walked back to me when he had finished taking my hand and bringing me home my mother was awake when we returned and she greeted me with a hug trying her best to cover up the bruise on her left cheek with make-up
when i was 7 years old i was startled awake by the sound of yelling coming from the kitchen i had decided that this was it i needed to do something so i got out of bed and walked into the kitchen to confront my father when i walked into the kitchen i raised myself to be as tall as i could manage but i didn't even get to speak before i felt his hand across my cheek
at 8 years old i sat in my room father was gone but there were still men in the house because my mother had to find love somewhere i just wasn't enough
when i was 10 years old my mother introduced me to a man and that was strange because she had never introduced me to one of her men before they are married now but i could never love him
when i was 11 my mother dropped me off at school and i was sat in front of a boy with brown floppy hair he tugged on the end of my pony tail and i turned around and hit his hand the teacher sat me at a table by myself and i began to pray that was the day i was told it was not appropriate to pray in school
i was 13 and the boy who use to tug my ponytail now sends me love letters that i kept in a box under my bed i did not want anyone to see them not even my mother because they were mine and i prayed to god to let me keep the boy who signed every card with an x
but when i was 14 the boy fell in love with the girl with the long blonde hair and the pretty blue eyes and i decided that god doesn't listen to me so i decided i would no longer pray
at 15 the boy and i began talking again but it would never be the same because he always had his ******* his arm and the boy and i watch the stars and talk about the things we love and she is always on his list and he shows me his writing he writes about her a lot he tells me his dreams and she is always a part of them
i am 16 years old and i am in love with the boy who pulled my hair and wrote me love letters and fell for another girl but now looks at me when he speaks his poems because his girl is too busy to show and holds my hand when he is shaky afterwards which is something she will never know
and i told myself i wouldn't do this i told myself i wouldn't pray but now i just can't seem to help it i need you more than ever and every night before to sleep i pray for you to fall in love with me.