I stand alone at the window...gazing at all the happy people.
Smiling, these cut out cardboard fake images.
Faking the smile with all there pain inside.
Why can't the inside show up on the outside; to be real?

I'm standing at the doorway to my bedroom.
Memories of many lovers and abuse.
With a blank stare on my face looking at my bed with anger.
Why did all of this happen to me?

I'm standing alongside to the kitchen.
Remembering being thrown accross the floor.
I was seven years old...and I still remember all the pain and abuse like it was yesterday.
Why mom, did you do that to me?

I hurt inside.
I hate inside.
I'm dying inside.
I kill inside.
Why am I so broken inside?

Help me, while I'm laying in my grave.
Help me, I just don't know what to do.
I hate how I'm looked at like a pet rat.
I hate how I'm wasted everyday just wasting away!
Help me God!
Help me!