Does it make you feel good,
To insult a child?
Because that’s what I am,
Beneath it all.
Beneath this act,
Of tough maturity,
I am alone,
And scared,
And ready to cry.
Does it make you feel good,
To rip me apart?
To take the nightmares I fear,
And twist them with your words,
Making them reality?
Does it make you feel good,
To know that I cry?
When I’m alone at night,
With no one to see,
I let go of the pain,
The fears and the guilt,
The hurt you cause.
I let go of it all,
And cry with great shaking sobs.
I can’t stop them,
My weak fragile body just keeps shaking,
Ready to break and shatter,
At the tiniest blow.
Does it make you feel good,
To leave behind these emotional scars?
The words you say,
Cut deeper then a blade,
Leaving my already broken heart and spirit,
Bleeding for much too long.
The scars left behind will never completely fade.
Does it make you feel good,
When you lay your head to rest?
To know that a child is broken and crying.
All alone the child weeps,
Not knowing how to fix the wounds,
Caused by your twisted visions of her.
Does it make you feel good?