Well, if your still reading, then good for you.......you can handle my life.....

Well, since we talked on me not able to cry for too long, lets get a little in depth....

Mostly, my mom would yell at me, calling me(and I quote) *****, *****, ****, ****, *******, ***, assadine, *** whole, *******, ******* *****, and it goes on and on, with mixes and new ones........well, with that she'd yell at me to stop crying, and with each word came a swift kick to my back, and they mostly landed along my spine...... I still experience pain when I lay down, sit up, or even randomly when walking or sitting. It feels like knives are being put into that area...... I know cause I accidentally got stabbed on my hand while doing dishes...... I hate knives...... Any way that's that, and from then on I rarely cry.

Home is supposed to be safe
Home isn't supposed to desert you
Home is supposed to love you unconditionally
Home isn't supposed to make you want to pull out the blade
Hope is supposed to be comfortable
Home isn't supposed to require little white pills
Home is supposed to be you
Home isn't supposed to be killing me

804

No Notice gave She, but a Change—
No Message, but a Sigh—
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.

She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime, the steady Frost
Upon Her ***** piled—

Of shrinking ways—she did not fright
Though all the Village looked—
But held Her gravity aloft—
And met the gaze—direct—

And when adjusted like a Seed
In careful fitted Ground
Unto the Everlasting Spring
And hindered but a Mound

Her Warm return, if so she chose—
And We—imploring drew—
Removed our invitation by
As Some She never knew—

Everything around me has become confusing
From feelings to family, everything has broken
Into a million tiny pieces, like specks of   dust
And I'm done dealing, so I sit here breathing them in