It was too early, she was too young She only wanted to belong Instead of friends, she came home with bruises And they were only amused
She was just seven, only second grade And leaving home so afraid Instead of listening, her cries meant nothing Maybe she meant nothing Maybe help was never coming
It went on too long, she could never win She only wanted to stop them Instead of smiles, she grew up with anger And they only blamed her
She was just a child, only a little kid And dreaming of her coffin Instead of crying, she wanted to stop hurting Maybe she could stop hurting Maybe she could bury it
It was too late, she was so wrong The damage was already done
I spent many years trying to ignore the most painful parts of my childhood until being diagnosed with depression. Now I've finally started confronting it the best way I know how.