When I was abused
they beat me black and blue.
I tried to keep my life together
with some old bottles of glue.
But when the glue ran out
my life shattered without a doubt.
I sat there for years
feeling nothing but hot tears.
I looked at the pieces
and wished I was among the deceased.
All those bottled up emotions
came out with a warrior cry explosion.
I turned cold and bitter
not even my eyes would glitter.
I turned aganist everyone
and every dear soul was stunned.
Because thats not me
thats not who they knew me to be.
For they were right, I locked myself in a dungeon
and thats where it started, that is the destruction.
It wasnt until I hurt a dear fellow of mine,
that I picked myself up and started to climb
Here I am today
busted up and dented
But each dent tells a story
of a well fought battle for glory
Author Notes: Please comment and rate as I am new to this. I would love feed back. And yes this poem is about me.