I Write Pretty Crappy Dark Poetry

I was only five years old
when I saw you standing in the kitchen.
Knife in your left hand slicing away
But pain is never skin deep.
I'm afraid...

I was only eleven years old
When I came home from school
Black and blue, humiliated.
You stood there, as stated, "Suicide? You're selfish. Do you want me to take you to an orphanage? Yeah, cry you little baby."

I was only sixteen years old
sorting through my junk.
The house echoing your rage
Your hand flying across my face.
Kicks to my shins will teach me to behave.

I was only eighteen years old
when I walked across the stage.
Teachers glaring, peers laughing
And amongst the crowd, strangers because you stayed at home.

I am twenty three years old now.
Getting bitched out or slaving my life away.
You insult me without provocation.
I pay bills so we can stay, but my life's like an animation.
Along my skin ridges and new scars.
I will never get away, not until my light fades to dark.