your sad eyes told a story that the words that came out of your mouth could never explain.
all you had in your life was the self-hatred and blame.
your eyes never looked ahead, and were always set on the ground.
your heart beat so quietly but your eyes spoke so loud.
and when you did try to reach out,
all you got was a stern look and someone walking away while their head shook.

your pale, scarred skin explained the self-inflicted,
rhythmic gashes on your body that mimicked the happiness you've always lacked.
and when your father found out about these marks on your skin,
all that you received was a meaningful smack.
you stayed up late and barely slept so the demons that came out at night would never attack.
and all the sleepless nights and frightful fights you had with yourself
caused you to become a major insomniac.

your shaky hands explained the uneasiness you've suffered through your whole life
while you nervously handled your father's rusty old knife.
you never took yourself as one who would be such a letdown.
but when you looked down at your hands,
all you could do was frown and let out a whimper.
you never spoke too loud and always had to whisper.
your hands shook everyday no matter what you had to do.
your knuckles poked out like nails on wood while being abused
by the hammer that repeatedly hit you.

and your bony knees shivered vigorously throughout the long, dark, winter of every year.
all that Christmas brought you was a joyless night full of tears.
your mother passed away 4 years ago to this day.
and all you could do was hide from your drunken father and pray and pray.
his safety mattered and so did yours,
but just being alive for him started to feel like a chore.

and oh god, your whole body was so pale and used.
your fragile bones could barely make it through all those rough hours and days,
and **** it, all those years since the beginning when your only
friend had disappeared.

e.knocks