Her screams are silent and her voice is restrained. She's knee deep in hurt, with a heavy heart and a weary soul.
She's silent as he yells, His hurtful speal of words. He causes the weakness in her knees,and the tears falling from her face. so many years of doubting herself, and making excuses for his fears. His sorry, Makes everything that was said no matter how disturbing and horrible it was, Absolutely okay.
I know whats in her,And she's so afraid of the consequences of standing up to him,For herself.
She woke exhausted from the night he created,But still she smiles, She cant let anyone know whats really going on her mind,In her heart. But i know..
-CLK
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
It's up to you. <3
Ive got more Scars then some Vietnam vets,
And everyday seems to leave a new one.I've got a habit of holding my breath, on impossibilities,
I've got a heart I like to compare to gold,and pride comparable to dirt.
I'll have you laughing and crying with heart wrenching stories leaving you heart broken with a smile as bright as the moon from the inside out.
I have suicide letters that would blow your mind and question every ounce of my being.
Hospital records that would give you no option but to believe in "something"
My walls? Painted bright pink masks every horrid tragedy that has taken place on every square foot that my my father owns.
My house is not a home, it's a museum of my nightmares, memories strewn across every room. The floors are cold, the hall is dark.
I have a father, who insists on being a compulsive pathological person, two no good combinations.
I have selfish Woman who gave birth to me, decided I was as worthless as she was and tossed me.
I have a smile, planted on my face through every circumstance, I DO believe the worst is over, now I'm healing. In desperate attempts to find myself. To this day my mind wanders off into my gut wrenching past and I fight my hardest,and I don't always win. My body is a battle field every time I look in the mirror it's like Iraq in the middle of an American meltdown. And my hands DO tremble like a soldier's first time behind the trigger, but my smile has never been bigger, because with every tremble there is an unsteady beat, a beat, I can hear my heart beat and I know tonight I will fall asleep and wake,when so many others fall asleep forever.
It's a weird brutal hate but has created a beautiful love.
-CLK.
And everyday seems to leave a new one.I've got a habit of holding my breath, on impossibilities,
I've got a heart I like to compare to gold,and pride comparable to dirt.
I'll have you laughing and crying with heart wrenching stories leaving you heart broken with a smile as bright as the moon from the inside out.
I have suicide letters that would blow your mind and question every ounce of my being.
Hospital records that would give you no option but to believe in "something"
My walls? Painted bright pink masks every horrid tragedy that has taken place on every square foot that my my father owns.
My house is not a home, it's a museum of my nightmares, memories strewn across every room. The floors are cold, the hall is dark.
I have a father, who insists on being a compulsive pathological person, two no good combinations.
I have selfish Woman who gave birth to me, decided I was as worthless as she was and tossed me.
I have a smile, planted on my face through every circumstance, I DO believe the worst is over, now I'm healing. In desperate attempts to find myself. To this day my mind wanders off into my gut wrenching past and I fight my hardest,and I don't always win. My body is a battle field every time I look in the mirror it's like Iraq in the middle of an American meltdown. And my hands DO tremble like a soldier's first time behind the trigger, but my smile has never been bigger, because with every tremble there is an unsteady beat, a beat, I can hear my heart beat and I know tonight I will fall asleep and wake,when so many others fall asleep forever.
It's a weird brutal hate but has created a beautiful love.
-CLK.
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