People say the truth hurts
My story is much much worse
I never had a decent dad
Pretty much everything made me mad
I never really fit in
I had just learned how to blend
Soon razorblades & cigarettes came
I'd always claim I just didn't want to be lame
Truth was, I was losing myself
I refused and turned away all help
Abuse came in many forms
but mine was along the lines of tornadoes and storms
Good and bad touch, I knew and felt the bad to much
It seems I'm falling back into old habits
They die hard, it's what people say
I try so hard to fight them off each day
Another truth was I hated myself,
not internally, but externally
All the unimportant, but was important to me
Seems each time you get better the rain gets harder
I've fallen and got up, yet I feel myself falling again
Will I cut up my body with this fall, or will I be able to save myself
Maybe just maybe someone still wants to help me up
I never really understood any of this until I grew up
I'm going to find myself, I know I will
I'll fight until I die, it that's what it takes
I won't give up, I won't give in
I sure as hell won't let him win.

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