May 30, 2008
By vanessa custer, Aberdeen, MD

Every second
Every day,
Every little time.
A child thinks it would be nice to say a small ryhme.
Now, I'm of my medication for a week at a time.

Tell me something,
Why do you not help?
As they call me names
You do nothing.
Every word they say,
Just makes another tear.
As I'm trying not to cry,
I'm fighting in my darkened corner.

Every breath I take hurts more and more.
For the scearming I do, Maybe.
But you'll never hear me,
Nor will you do anything about it.

You watch me in pain,
in my room,
My darkened heaven,
But now,
I'm Dying.

But still,
You do nothing,
Not a damn thing.

I was your everything,
But now I'm nothing

Now you are nothing
Just like me
Nothing more then tears,
For everytime I wanted love,
You gave me nothing

Not a thing,
But you did do something for me
You made me the person I am now.
Trading seat I'll let you know,
You are nothing.
And maybe.
You'll stand in controle.

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