He was supposed to be my dad
He was supposed to make me glad
He should not have made me sad
Now I don't feel the same.
He should have handled me with care
We should have had a world to share
He should not have touched me there
Why do I feel some of the blame?
I couldn't tell my mom, nor my counselor in school
I couldn't face myself, feeling like a fool
Now I lose control when my urges start to rule
Will these feelings never cease?
Now, in the darkness of my room, when I'm all alone
Feeling my life is over, I don't have one of my own
As I cut my arms, I feel as though my heart has turned to stone
With the blood there comes release.
I have no future I can see, but go on each day I must
I don't fit in this world at all; my dreams have turned to dust
There is no one I feel comfortable with, no one I can trust
All my days are filled with rain
I press the edge against my skin but still I do not feel
Oh God, please make it stop. My life's been so unreal
Sometimes I pray, sometimes I swear, but still I do not heal
Why, oh why don't I feel the pain?
My days are filled with darkness, only I can tell
Inside I feel the shame and know I never will get well
In my mind a sense of hopelessness, my own private hell
As I sit alone and cry.
Am I neurotic, psychotic? Is my mind nearly gone?
Why am I here? Why do I need to carry on?
In this twisted hell you created, I feel like a pawn.
Now I'm wishing I would die.
This was written for the cutters I've worked with, all beautiful kids, all abused
by the very people who should have been loving them and watching out for them.
A reinforcement for me on my belief in the death penalty. a slow calculated death
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2006
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