It's a long climb that I'm not sure I can make
with razor-sharp edges that I helped to create
this anger that lives deep in my sub-conscience
pushing me farther down as I try to get out of this

She couldn't have known that day she'd die,
by the abusive hand of a wondering eye,
She fell down the stairs, ran into the door,
All lies, we all know he strikes her and calls her whore,

I can still hear it echoing in my head
"I'm so sorry girls, but your daddy is dead"
I'm still standing at his casket, begging for his warm embrace
not fully comprehending what had taken place

what is beauty? Its more than a symmetrical face
its more than the tight little bodies men chase
beauty is in the obese man who helps a child read

my existance seems so pointless, so hopeless and lonely
I know them not to be truths, no matter what they've told me
honesty must be too difficult, for your every word is laced with lies

I lay upon the ground, pouring tears into soil,
weak, alone and destroyed by the turmoil,
the pain that has become my everyday
my soul slowly drowns in sorrow as I lay