They cry in the dark So you can’t see their tears They hide in the light So you can’t see their fears Forgive and forget All the while Love and pain become one and the same In the eyes of a wounded child
Because hell, hell is for children And you know that their little lives can become such a mess Hell, hell is for children And you shouldn’t have to pay for your love With your bones and your flesh
It’s all so confusing this brutal abusing They blacken your eyes and then apologize Be daddy’s good girl, and don’t tell mommy a thing Be a good little boy, and you’ll get a new toy Tell grandma you fell from the swing
Because hell, hell is for children And you know that their little lives can become such a mess Hell, hell is for children And you shouldn’t have to pay for your love With your bones and your flesh
No, hell is for children
Hell, hell is for hell Hell is for hell Hell is for children
Hell, hell is for hell Hell is for hell Hell is for children
Hell, hell is for hell Hell is for hell Hell is for children
Hell is for children Hell is for children
My 2 Cents –
Was struggling to find a song for the week and this came across my dash. It’s unfortunate… But I feel this. Childhood should not be something you have to heal from…but for many of us it is.
I don’t often do Nonfiction. Still when I started Fae Corps I did some writing classes for the groups we did. I decided to compile it and release it as a book. There is world building, character development, writing poetry, and children’s books. This is a quick help guide to all writers. It is currently on pre-order with a release date of October 13th. Get your copy Here.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get it done in time. But I finally got it done. (Yeah I know the post this morning said that I had 10 left. I do my posts Sunday night when I can.)
I will post the link when I get it… but I just wanted to celebrate finishing the writing.
Personally, I write Free Verse. My reason is simple… I hate dealing with the rules. Other forms require the poet to be aware of syllables or the syntax of the poem. Some require certain rhyme schemes.
I’m working on a volume of poetry entirely done with forms other than free verse – Xactly Poetic.
I am so frustrated with it at the moment. I am at 60 poems. I started with the idea that I was going to do 50… realized that I was being lazy because I always do 70 poems in each volume and I got mad at me.
So I am going to do 70. But it is not as easy as it is for the regular volumes. And I am irritated with myself for wanting to quit.
I have set a self imposed deadline/release date of September 15… that is a I have to get it done and published by that date. Which means I have to get it written by August 15. And I have 10 poems left to write. Ugh. Not normally a problem… so I am hoping that I can get it done.
Well the key to my survival Was never in much doubt The question was, how I could keep sane Trying to find a way out? Things were never easy for me Peace of mind was hard to find And I needed a place where I could hide Somewhere I could call mine I didn’t think much about it ‘Til it started happening all the time Soon I was living with the fear everyday Of what might happen that night I couldn’t stand to hear the crying Of my mother, and I remember when I swore that that would be the last they’d see of me And I never went home again They say that time is a healer And now my wounds are not the same I rang the bell with my heart in my mouth I had to hear what he’d say He sat me down to talk to me He looked me straight in the eyes He said “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” “You walked out, you left us behind” “And you’re no son, you’re no son of mine” Oh, his words how they hurt me, I’ll never forget it And as the time, it went by, I lived to regret it “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” But where should I go and what should I do? “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” But I came here for help, oh I came here for you Well the years they passed so slowly I thought about him everyday What would I do, if we passed on the street Would I keep running away? In and out of hiding places Soon I’d have to face the facts We’d have to sit down and talk it over And that would mean going back They say that time is a healer And now my wounds are not the same But I rang that bell with my heart in my mouth I had to hear what he’d say He sat me down to talk to me He looked me straight in the eyes He said “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” “You’re no son, no son of mine” “When you walked out, you left us behind” “And you’re no son, you’re no son of mine” Oh, his words how they hurt me I’ll never forget it And as the time, it went by I lived to regret it “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” But where should I go and what should I do? “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” Well I came here for help, oh I was looking for you “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine oh” “You’re no son” ha yeah, ha yeah, ha yeah, ha yeah, ha yeah “You’re no son, you’re no son of mine” Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh You’re no son of mine (oh, oh) (Oh, oh) You’re no son of mine (oh, oh) You’re no son (oh, oh), you’re no son of mine (oh, oh) Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh You’re no son of mine (oh, oh) Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh
My 2 Cents –
This is a song that caught my attention in high school. It sparked my empathy then, and really still does. Not all survivors of abuse are the same, but we all know what it feels like…
Pattimouse 