Is that why I write and paint? Is that why I sing until I force tears into my eyes. Is that why I tried to commit suicide? Yea. Who gets to blame who now?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Useless information | ||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| White perfection is there goal. | ||||||||||
| No one wants to interview me and my boring life, so I will take enjoyment sharing well, some useless information about my family. My mother is named Joetta...and my father's name is mike, they married and two years later the" mistake" was born into the world. From there I think my childhood was somewhat decent, yet I cannot remember much. Mental block. The day I lost my innocents was the day my parents decided to hate one another and get divorced. Both became raging alcoholics..battling demons that were nude to the common eye. I was placed last and least to my mother and her new husband, the alcohol drowned them, as I watched in the corner. I was forgotten. Blamed. Nothing can take back the cold look in my own mothers eyes..the whippings the mental abuse. I always picked up the broken glass, my hands now are shreds, I bleed daily when I think back to it all. I will not think more about the pain. Is that why I write and paint? Is that why I sing until I force tears into my eyes. Is that why I tried to commit suicide? Yea. Who gets to blame who now? |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||