You've gotten more violent.
You're waiting for me outside my house after school.
You beat me up outside of my own home but I know no one is in to see.
I can't remember the original colour of my stomach, the blues, purples and yellows have taken over what is once was.
Every time you see me wince in pain I can feel your smirk as if you're happy with the suffering that you cause me.
I cry myself to sleep you know.
I often wonder what life would be like without me in it.
Is that wrong of me?