1_21Guns
June 18th, 2010, 03:24 PM
An angry outburst,
An evil smile,
Emotionless eyes and actions so quick and unexpected,
The crowd around her, crippled with fear.
She knows exactly what those people think of her.
What they think she is,
All because of how she is on the outside.
But if they only knew what went on behind closed doors.
She’ll often close her eyes at night, lie there with her eyes closed.
However she’ll never ever fall asleep, because she still hears the screams over again, even when they’ve stopped, it’ll still ring in her ears.
She’ll only open them when she’s after something.
Something to drain the pain away, something to make everything fade,
Next thing she knows it’s in her hand, she doesn’t want to do it, but she doesn’t know anything else. It’s all she’s ever known.
Late nights locked in her room alone, nothing but herself to keep her company.
That’s when it starts to pour, thoughts crashing on her head like hailstones on the window outside, seemingly never ending thuds of hate.
Hate for herself, hate for those around her.
They don’t understand. They don’t know what goes on behind that door.
And they’ll never know, she says.
Because that twisted smile is why everyone reckons she’s just crazy.
Because they don’t think to look behind the act,
The broken look that sometimes fills her eyes,
The meaning behind her thoughtless rage,
Yet nobody sees it, they carry on like it’s just the way it is.
All she hears are the screams, he’s hitting her again.
He won’t stop.
She’ll be in hospital again.
He won’t stop.
How many times can you “fall down the stairs” before it’s clear something’s wrong?
He won’t stop.
I’m sorry mummy.
But nobody gets it, not even you.
An evil smile,
Emotionless eyes and actions so quick and unexpected,
The crowd around her, crippled with fear.
She knows exactly what those people think of her.
What they think she is,
All because of how she is on the outside.
But if they only knew what went on behind closed doors.
She’ll often close her eyes at night, lie there with her eyes closed.
However she’ll never ever fall asleep, because she still hears the screams over again, even when they’ve stopped, it’ll still ring in her ears.
She’ll only open them when she’s after something.
Something to drain the pain away, something to make everything fade,
Next thing she knows it’s in her hand, she doesn’t want to do it, but she doesn’t know anything else. It’s all she’s ever known.
Late nights locked in her room alone, nothing but herself to keep her company.
That’s when it starts to pour, thoughts crashing on her head like hailstones on the window outside, seemingly never ending thuds of hate.
Hate for herself, hate for those around her.
They don’t understand. They don’t know what goes on behind that door.
And they’ll never know, she says.
Because that twisted smile is why everyone reckons she’s just crazy.
Because they don’t think to look behind the act,
The broken look that sometimes fills her eyes,
The meaning behind her thoughtless rage,
Yet nobody sees it, they carry on like it’s just the way it is.
All she hears are the screams, he’s hitting her again.
He won’t stop.
She’ll be in hospital again.
He won’t stop.
How many times can you “fall down the stairs” before it’s clear something’s wrong?
He won’t stop.
I’m sorry mummy.
But nobody gets it, not even you.