The hand that fed me
Became the hand that hit me
And when I bit his fingers
He only hit harder
We played when he wanted to play
And when the rough housing hurt me
I was crying in the corner like a kicked puppy
And I thought maybe I’d run out the door and down the street the next chance I got
But I was chained inside his bedroom
My collar so tight I could hardly breathe
And on that day I decided I didn’t like these games anymore
The front door opened and my restraints loosened
And I think the worst part
Is that I kept coming back to sit on the front porch
Hoping he’d let me back in
Because you never leave the hand that feeds you
Even if it leaves you starving