Take a look at me, i'm a history of pain.
Scars so deep, as if i were beaten like a slave.
To the symbolic rivers, of blood I have bled.
My inner soul and spirit, wrongly being fed.
By lies that were my truth,
And truth I saw as lies,
Growing into a man, bound by his demise.
Silently screaming hoping to be heard,
But only pain listened, and answered.
"I'm the one on whom you've relied,
I am in your heart, your past, and i'm working on your mind.
To make sure that you know without pain,
You might actually think, your someone with a world to gain.
Naw see I can't have that, I define who you are.
You will never be free, of my cuts, bruises, and scars.
God laughs at your struggle, in which i contribute to,
Your cryes for help? Sorry his ears are immune!"

A history of pain, is how i've always defined,
Myself, my future, it's as if i had aligned,
My fate with my past,
Wondering if my soul will forever last.