I was unhappy
I lived my childhood tiptoeing around  my problems
You were my problem
I didn’t really have a childhood
I didn’t really have “fun” memories
I had distraught memories of always hurting

You asked me why am I always frowning
How can I be happy when
I felt like i was going mad
I felt like I was the problem
That I caused it to be this way
That it’s my fault because I was too pretty
It’s my fault because i drew attention to myself
It’s my fault because I was asking for this to happen
that i would be returned to a place I thought was ten times worse then this
So I endured the suffering and the pain
And the darkness and my writing became my only friend , the only friend that knew everything
The only friend I could hide behind