Abused
Being a child of isolation
Nothing looking forward too.
Fat and ugly no one liked
Hitting going on more than once
Like a black and broozed eye
Was worse on my thigh
Going home was my worse fear
Afraid of what would appear
Whips and branches hard as steal
The worst thing was the doctor bill
Growing up with no one there
Had no mother that would care
Two kids was a delight
I learned if you want to get by
You have to fight
Copyright © Laura Mize | Year Posted 2011
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