It's time to come out,
To tell my story.
I've waited too long,
It's time to speak up.
Starting with their words,
And ending with my thoughts.
starting with the fists to my face,
And the claws to my arms.
It started like a game.
I was a child playing battle,
But it turned into survival.
A fight to live, a fight for will.
Begging myself for one more day,
Begging myself for a reason to stay.
This battle still goes on, inside my head.
It's a survival game, with no rules.
It's playing cards with the devil,
He's expected to cheat.
It was hating myself,
And hating myself for hating myself.
It was being proud of my scars,
But ashamed of how they got there.
It was begging to die, but desperate to live.
It was needing to be loved,
But feeling like your scars are too ugly,
And your heart too empty.
It's feeling worthless, and being broken.
It's cutting your worth into your skin,
Because pain makes you strong, brave, hard,
But it makes you ugly, ashamed, quiet, alone.
It makes them talk behind your back,
About what they've seen,
But never what they ignore.
It's wanting people to know,
But not wanting to say it out loud,
Because that makes it real.
It becomes the truth.
And you can't handle it.