hit one
for making a phone call
hit two
for not even getting in trouble at all
hit three
with a fis that feels so deadly
hit four
what did I do for them to hate me
hit five
it isn't hat they say, it's love
hit six
but I don't feel anything but the burn from the rug
hit seven
I have to cover up the scars and bruises
hit eight
getting sick from all the medicine and doses
hit nine
I think my life is coming to an end
hit ten
they cut the cord, but now i'm in a place called 'HEAVEN'

by Ti'ara D. Perry

Other poems of PERRY (36)

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