Fairy Tales (Don't Come True)

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Once upon a time. . .

There was a little girl who liked to rhyme.

Her vocabulary, from a young age, was impressive

but her love of words was never fully accepted.

Never gained respect, grew up in a house that was oppressive.

She became depressed, feeling like an outcast.

Why pursue such a silly, pointless craft?

Regressing back to basic phonetics; she got the message.

Accused of being "too sensitive," she was pathetic.

Why couldn't she be more like her sister? Athletic.

Forget poetry, little girl, you'll never get any credit.

Soon you'll become apologetic for time-wasted.

You're a loser, face it. Even your own family hates it.

But what they don't know is that you're using these words as an escape.

So, tears stream down your face as you're imagining a better place.

 

Just a typical day full of hatred--you hear their voices raising.

Screaming turns to crying, then nothing but silence.

Her house was the perfect example of family violence.

A safe-haven turned into a negative environment; no guidance.

Anger ran through their veins like a virus; but claimed loved was timeless.

This is how she grew up, what she thought was fine;

no wonder she should have been in an asylum by the age of nine.

Her daddy was a mean alcoholic; her mom didn't have a spine.

Between pill poppin' and recreational drugs, she witnessed the decline.