"Mornings I lived for"
"Oh Mommy, please don't hate me tonight", I would beg and plead,
Before I knew it she would make me bleed,
"Oh mommy, I'm sorry", I would cry, but it was to better shut up than to try, So to only God, I would cry,
"I'm not your mum", she'd scream in my face, "Your own mom didn't want you in the first place", As I would lay on the cold floor, She'd tell me that's why she even hated me more,
"Your just like her you know, When you grow up you'll still be nothing better than a whore",
Sometimes I would find the audacity or maybe rather stupidity to cry, "I wish daddy was still here, I wish he was alive",
Then my little heart would break even more when she would say, "Well he's not and quit calling him daddy before I really give you a what for, He shouldn't of left me stuck with you but he had to drag you back from that whore's",
Then morning would peek, And
I would try to keep my sister quiet or I'd get it for sure,
I remember some mornings she'd wake up, It would seem she was no longer sore with me, And I could stay in the same room where her and my sister would be, Those were the morning's that as a child I would live for.
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