SS (June 12,1992 / London, Ontario)

My Point Of View

That one night, not too long ago,
You yelled at me like you'd never let it go.
I don't know what you're looking for.
Don't touch that bruise, it's ever so sore.

You called me up for no reason at all,
Just to look for something that was just down the hall.
I felt so unloved and used,
Also tremendously abused.

You tuck them into bed at night,
You never came to see if I've turned off my light.
You love them ten times more than me.
Every day, more of that I see.

I slit my wrists at night,
Just wishing everything would be alright.
I know it will never come to be,
Because every day, I want to run and flee.

My friends are the only ones who I have left,
Even with them, I have wept and wept.
I don't know why you're doing this.
I don't even get a good night kiss.

Your daughter, I am supposed to be?
Supposed to feel with happiness and glee.
Instead, you make me feel like a slave.
I really am trying to be brave.

One day I won't even be here.
Like you'd care-you'd probably have a beer.
That day, I'll be too late to save,
'Good luck to you, ' I say as I wave.

by Sam Smith

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