When the Glue Ran Out.

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.

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