I Was Always Wrong

 how can you grow on

believing in yourself

when you are taught you are always wrong, 

my friend?

from the ashes of who I thought I was back then

I thank me for holding up

in every almost encounter of the end of me

even so wrecked inside and out

I found strength to walk a little farther

- and here I am

and they never saw - and they never cared - 

and they never distrust 

all of my tears and distresses were all true

not me

not a form of calling attention

as I heard when lied on the hospital bed

as I heard when I said I needed to get away from that

the realeast hell on earth

when all I wanted was to be listened

to be looked deep in my eyes

to be loved with warmth

not what they said it was love

those yelled hatred naked words

the most possessive

instead of something close to pure

while they believed they were giving me the purest

nothing there was even close to pure

I was so damn lost 

I cried about it, I screamed about it

from the top of lungs and heart

I hurted myself because of it and left scars to remember

I threw up all of that I was feeling

by writing, by singing, by hating back

now knowing why 

even asking so many unanswered times why

I was burning inside out

while growing on

trying to believing in myself

while deceiving me by blaming

because I was taught I

- and sometimes still think - 

I was always wrong, my friend.