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A shard of a body
That's what I was at 8
I remember knowing I was watched.
Never when I smiled, only when I endured.
Acid words, their silver impact
Midas made gold, so my skin must've shimmered.
A remnant of soul,
Waiting for twilight so I can crawl
Within myself and rest for the night.
From 7 to 9 I used to beg for love,
That's why I have so much pride today.
Infancy meant smothering the floor with my ****** knees and begging,
Pleading like a fly to a swatter, to be saved, to be forgiven.
I used to think to- myself "mercy is so hard to work for".
At 10 I took to nightly silence,
A knock at the door meant a visit and five meant I was the outsider.
Waiting for the neighbours to glance at each other while I was counting roaches, dead on the stairs.
A scrap of mind,
When I still thought god loved me, I used to pray,
To be taken and never given away.
To be given my knees back in exchange for me.
I used to ask to be given mind if death wasn't ready to take so young.
But church was empty and I was never accompanied just held by the hand.
A shard of body, a remnant of soul, a scrap of mind
I'd tell the child we've been dead and we're now gods.
She'd believe me,
She'd believe anything.
I should've killed you, child.
It would've been faster, a respectful execution.
I love you child.
Tonight you may be worth only one tear
But you have cried enough for me.