Survive

As I run down the stairs, shaking with fright,
I realize that nothing I do is right.
You catch me by pulling my hair,
And you spit on my face and tell me,
"Life isn't fair."
When your fist hits my side,
I know there's no point in trying to hide.
All I can do is hope that I'll survive,
And some day hold my head up with pride.
For now I'll lay here pathetically and let myself cry,
And hope that this isn't the night I die.

Poem by Spyke!

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