8-years-old, he comes alone
Bruised and battered to a broken home
Tears in his eyes that he won't let out
Because his father once said life's nothing to cry about
For years, he had a bulls-eye pinned to his back
He was nothing but the target of taunts and attacks
He didn't feel love, just punches and shoves
Once, he'd tried praying for help from above
Sometimes he called the lockers he's shoved into, home
Now laying, ice cold, his parents insist they had never known
Because as he got older, he learned how to hide the scars
Learned to smile even while he felt caged behind bars
Growing up, his mom said kisses would make it all better
Now all that's left of him is a body and a letter

Only 15, nowhere near an adult
How could they ever think she could handle the insults
Staring at her emaciated body, all she saw was fat
It's what the media told her: short, ugly, a brat
She let boys take advantage; they'd said it'd make her feel better
Their hands rubbing the skin and bones beneath her sweater
Until no one would touch her, too brittle to break
No one wanted to **** her, to make that mistake
But to her, losing touch meant she was no longer wanted
A feeling that left her cadaverous body empty and haunted
No one stopped her, they looked on as she stopped taking bites
They just watched as she gave up the will to fight

Kisses can only help for so long
But there comes a point where we can no longer be strong