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A lot of talk and a whole lot of nothing
They think they have all the answers, and can teach you something
Picking up half truths one line at a time
Trying to piece it all together while you’re laying awake crying
“You know yourself best and that of your son”..,
“No I don’t, that’s why I need you to tell me
Or I could just flip a coin and pick one…
Cuz I don’t know how to make my own decisions
I’ve been beaten to the ground, spent my whole life in submission
I’m just barely starting to wake up
And feel the possibility of freedom
But I can’t get the past out of my head, and I’m clawing away screaming!
“Someone please help me! I can’t do this alone!”
“Give it all to Jesus, he died for you you know,”
That answer tells me you really don’t care.
You just want to feel like you did something to help
You get to move on and live your life in happiness
But I’m still stuck here screaming drowning in my own sadness
Looking for answers and becoming more confused
Slowly dying inside as I’m battered and bruised
Having to face him, he never stops blaming me
Makes me feel like I’m worthless, purposefully trying to hurt me
It never ends, it never stops
Circling around with deadly thoughts
Wanting to feel like I’m slowly healing
Seeing my son smile, is enough to keep fighting
It took us almost dying to get what we needed
Not Allah or Jesus, or a class about breathing
Not some phony guess work diagnosis
Or a few insincere attempts to placate our emotions
Fuck Jesus, Fuck Allah, Fuck the mental health system,
For all the excuses, and bullshit so-called workers in the profession
Fuck everyone who thinks they can try to tell me…What I should do differently to change my parenting
They would die too if it was up to them
I’m tired…tired of the cop outs and bullshit excuses
Tired of everything being so complicated, and no one giving two shits
Fuck everyone, they failed me. And proved to be empty
Now I know all I really have is me.
It’s up to me
I am indestructible
Great piece of writing, Belle
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