I can't talk to anybody, I feel like nobody understands, So I pick up some paper and grab me a pen. You see me smile, but if you only knew The things that I hold onto And just can't seem to let go. I know I must forgive, and I said that I do, But I don't really think that I actually do. Forgive my mother, my uncle, stepdad, and aunt's boyfriend For the pain they put me through as a kid. I spoke up, no one listened. So it continued on and I just didn't mention The things that went on in the middle of the night. It happened before, so maybe it's all right. At 5, at 8, at 9 and 10. Over and over and over again. She caught him, forgave, got married, nothing changed. I'm over it now, I really am. I think about it every now and then. Have trouble sleeping at night. I laugh about it now, especially when I used to sleep with a knife. I know the only way to get over it, Is to open up and speak, But when I spoke when I was younger, No one heard me. So you tell me, WHAT THE HECK DO I DO, When that voice in my head keeps saying, You're wasting your time, no one cares about you. I can't shake that, I've believed that my whole life. I'm just glad that God gave me a pen, paper, and the ability to write. 'Cause when I feel like no one hears me, I just write.