I can't remember when this started.
when I decided that I can no longer cry, that I could no longer love.
Perhaps it was the day that my mother told me that she wished,
that I was dead soon after those words became physical blows.
Those blows got worse and worse, till the day that she didn't come home.
I thought oh she's probably just out on the corner or in a den or some man's house,
I waited and realized that she had left me,for dead that I was really nothing to the woman
masquerading around as my "mother".
My name is orphan, you can see that my personal hell was written on my skin for the world to see scars and burns litter my body all of them ghosts of the past that is still my present and more so my future.
"orphan get your lazy ass down here!someone actually thinks you're more than trash".
I looked up from the ground as I made my way down the stairs to the devil of a lady who was supposed to take care of me not use me as a slave.