When i was a little girl i looked to the sky and questioned why my life was so perfect. I showered in love and washed my face with nothing but meaningful kisses. My heart use to beat and my lips use to smile. When i was little God lived in my attic and wishes came true. I ran with the best but no one compared to you. When the corners of your mouth raised so would the sun and it would illuminate my soul with radiance, bliss, and fun. But then you became hard to read and the thought of God was murdered. I grew so cold my heart stopped beating. I became nothing you expected. I lived for me, but for me, I didn't live. I only lived because i wasn't dead. So many times did the razor pleasure my flesh with wounds. So many times did i cry because of the abuse, until i forgot how to cry and learned how to hurt, and boy did i hurt. I hurt so callously the only thing they could do was desert me. I rotted in my nagative thoughts, but being so close to death was my only happiness. But then you came to me in a metaphor, to show me you had not forgotten. and for that i felt bad. I tried to mend the peices but only a few accepted. I ran to God, and he took me back with open arms. I begged for their forgiveness, and although they forgave me i don't think they ever forgot. It hurts my heart a great deal to stand on top and look upon all the people iv'e hurt. but dear mum, I swear as long as theirs a God in heaven i will do everything in my power to make things better. This i promise you.
