My pages are filled with
misery, dark drawing
pollute the pages of my
life written down, I have
been tormented through
life not anymore.

I ripped pages out to forget those
times, what was done to me, but
hate sewed the pages back in
to remind me what made me
who I have now become.

My pages are filled with rips,
the scars that I was given for
being different from you,
but those pages have healed
and I moved on.

My book is of misery, but I have
not let the past rule me, I have
turned new pages never letting
misery rule, instead I turned it
and made my self strong.