It's hard to believe I will ever feel happy
Like I was when I was a young boy
Playing tag with my next door neighbor
Or feeling the excitement on Christmas day
It's hard to believe I will ever feel content
Like listening to old records on my stereo
Or writing poetry at the age of nine
Everything back then seemed so innocent
Everything back then seemed so fine
But it wasn't...
It was just trying to hold on to life
And make the best out of it without going crazy
So much dysfuncftionality ( even if that is a word )
Dad going insane
Older brother malesting me
Younger brother a whimp
So much chaos
We all just wanted to quit
Nothing going right
Mom getting hit
We all pretended everything was okay
Come Christmas time when presents were being open
Then you had Easter, waking up to go to church
Sitting at the pew and praising a God we hardly knew
I thought many times to run away
Forget everyone and try something different
It would be better than all of this
I even tried it once but got scared and ran back home
How the hell did we all survive?
I wish there was a manual to do life
I would of done things differently
Said things differently
It wasn't at all fine
Now we all have scars
And have turned out different this time
Mom is dead
Dad is dead
Older brother a minister
Which I think is ironic
Younger brother a talker
And me trying to find my own way
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 8:38 AM UTC
It's hard to believe I will ever feel happy
Like I was when I was a young boy
Playing tag with my next door neighbor
Or feeling the excitement on Christmas day
It's hard to believe I will ever feel content
Like listening to old records on my stereo
Or writing poetry at the age of nine
Everything back then seemed so innocent
Everything back then seemed so fine
But it wasn't...
It was just trying to hold on to life
And make the best out of it without going crazy
So much dysfuncftionality ( even if that is a word )
Dad going insane
Older brother malesting me
Younger brother a whimp
So much chaos
We all just wanted to quit
Nothing going right
Mom getting hit
We all pretended everything was okay
Come Christmas time when presents were being open
Then you had Easter, waking up to go to church
Sitting at the pew and praising a God we hardly knew
I thought many times to run away
Forget everyone and try something different
It would be better than all of this
I even tried it once but got scared and ran back home
How the hell did we all survive?
I wish there was a manual to do life
I would of done things differently
Said things differently
It wasn't at all fine
Now we all have scars
And have turned out different this time
Mom is dead
Dad is dead
Older brother a minister
Which I think is ironic
Younger brother a talker
And me trying to find my own way
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