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People say
They say many things
But a picture is worth a thousand words?
Yeah I guess that’s true

See that picture of four
A father, a mother
And a boy with clouded eyes
Sitting down, laughing, smiling

And yet behind that mask that they each wear
Behind that smile cut deeply in their cheeks
Is the same flaws in all of us.

The boy sleeps none
And his parents ain’t caring
A blade runs down his arm

Until he can no longer feel his pain

But he doesn’t cry
For he’s shed his shame of them.
Far too many you could suppose
Bruises are etched into his skin

For a permanent reminder

To never talk back.
To always be good.
To never cry
And this, he thinks about.
But he’s a good boy
Because this happens to everyone right?
That it’s only normal to be treated this way.
That it’s his rightful place

But he doesn’t care none
For he tells himself

Things get better.
He’s going to get out of here
and everything will be




I write, I rant and I ramble, but it's not the best.

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