170. Instead..
9:25 a.m. & Monday, Oct. 30, 2006
Because most kids my age aren't brought up with violence, they just can't comprehend it. They think that it's something you only see at the cinemas.
I was the opposite, I thought that everyone was brought up this way. Until last year.
I thought that it was normal for mother to beat me until I passed out.
I thought that it was normal for me to want to raise my children with a bitter tongue and cutting words. It's not.
offer me more threats and hateful words, mommy.
instead of the million hugs you seem to forgive.
Offer me more beatings, mommy.
Instead of an encouraging prose, or a simlple "I love you."
I want to remember What takes a lifetime to forget
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I am me. Nothing more, nothing less. I write. I don?t write beautiful things. I write about things that happen to me. Things that come from my soul. Deep inside me. This is my life. This is my angst. This is my happiness. This is my joy. This is my sorrow, and my pain. I don?t consider myself a 'poet' in any manner. I consider myself a struggling teen just trying to get by in life. I've only a few things left to hold onto. And writing is one of those...
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