Brutlized
My life I cant speak out in anger
How I treated the soles of my heart.
My life is crittled in danger.
But I'll still let him be apart.
My fullishness is not currupted.
The days are ever lasting.
My anger has been disrupted.
As for those memories keep on passing.
My childhood is a memory box.
I slip away every now and then.
I feel brutlized ,and lined with chalk.
Knowing what I been through isnt pretend.
Induldged with secrecy,behind closed doors.
Gained the lowest trails.
And what I want for ever more.
Is my grandpa to go to jail.
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