Yo, this is for...

Shit, this is for me

Fuck it.

I remember when I was a wee tiny lad

A boy no more, no less

Aged 4 or 5 When I moved in with my step-dad

Too young I was, when mom and daddy broke up

I guess They were too young too

Me and my older sister

And I couldnt remember a time mom and day were together

Visitations, that was it

Every other weekend and half the summer

Always asking why, mom, why

Why don't you and Dad get back together

And my step-dad...

I still hate him today

Not because he tried to take my dads place

but because he didn't

He never wanted us to call him dad

He abused our mom in front of us

Hit her, called her names, beat her

Murder to the eys of a 6 year old

I think I was 7 by the time I stopped crying over it

He abused her physically and us mentally

Playing those mind games unrelentingly

Telling us as we grew up

How bad our mother was

And how bad we were

Scaring us into behaving until we were afraid

Of showing any weakness to the motherfucker

When I was 8, I move to Virginia

To be with my Dad for a year

I came back home, expecting more

than I had left, and it was still the same

My sister began rebelling when she was 13

And I was ten at the time, remembering

All the times she fought with them

My step-dad and mom

Caused them grief, and I thought

I'll never act like that, boy was I wrong

I hated it, and once more, I hated it

Watching him lay hands on my mother

dealing with the mental abuse he chose me to suffer

And I began to rebel at the same age as my sister, 13

She was sixteen and already pregnant with her first kid

Moving in and out of home, just to get away from it

She moved away when she was 17 or 18, I forget

Got her own place, pregnant with her second kid

I was stuck to deal witht he abuse

And I found new friends

So when my step-dad would tell me to leave

I'd leave

and my step-mom would worry

I think he cared for me, but he had

The worst way of showing it

One night I left, he gave my mother a semi-concussion

I was at my friends house, with my bags

Eyes still red from crying

Because I was told to pack and leave

I think I must have been 15

Yeah I think I was

My sister hunted me down to tell me the news

But I pretended I wasn't there, fuck the abuse

I didn't sleep a wink that night

Wandered the streets on a kids bike

Worried about everything that had happened that night

That was the last time he hit for a long time

Bu tthat didn't stop the fights

No, they just got worse, in a different way

The verbal abuse, aimed at me when she was gone

Telling me how bad of a mother she was

How he hated being with her

how he hated being around us

And all I ever wanted, was to make him proud

Nothing I did was ever good enough

There were good times mixed in all of this

Times when I felt closer to him than ever

But one bad night, and it was all over

I went to JOb Corps when I was 16

Had got kicked out of school, and was told to get a job

Well jobs are hard to get, and I had heard of the program

But before I went

He said Id never make it

And that stuck in my head

A month and three weeks, enough to get my GED

And then back to school I went

Still listening to them fight

Still crying myself to sleep

And this here isn't even the half of it

I could tell yout hings that he said and did

that would make you flinch

This is just the Skimming of years spent

Hating every minute

At age 18 I had a breakdown

After years of holding it inside

And not showing any weakness at all

Trying not to cry at night

And him and my mom fighting was just the final straw

I lost it, I lost

And so I rocked to the flow of my arms around my knees

And the tears down my face as they streamed

Well, it came down to a head

After I withdrew from school

I was gone from the house all the time

Barely ate a thing

Only came home to sleep every now and then

So they couldnt complain

Well my mother did

And so my step dad set a curfew

One night, it was kind of late, I went to the college

My friend went to, him and his girlfriend

Managed to track my dad down over the internet

Was late coming home, and was woken up at 3 in the morning

My step-dad bitching over somethign I had told his dealer

Calling me a jerk, a bitch, and to get out of his house

Hand over the key, kid, get out

And so I started living with my sister

And now I live in a new environment

And though I've moved past everything else

I can't push through this hatred

I thought I had forgiven him

But I can't, I can't

Everytime I think of him now

I think of all the years I spent

Thinking I was worse than shit

because of him, the years spent

Wasted, trying to prove myself to a man

So everytime I think of him, and the shit I went through

I can't help but hate him

Get anrgy, pissed off

about the only thing that can do it to me these days

I don't care if he dies without me there

And I dont show up to his funeral or memorial

I can hear my mother bitching now, in my mind

You didn't even come one last time

He died thinking you didn't love him

And I imagine I'll stare her coldly in the eyes

And say something to the effect of

Did you really expect me to placate him?

He couldn't even tell me himself before he died, how proud of me he was

He couldn't even tell me that he loved me

And you expect me to give a shit, after all the years wasted

Trying to prove myself to him, and all for vain

Did you really expect any different?

You expect me to change all of a sudden

And forget his transgressions

Now that I'm clear of depression

and can see how fucked up the story was

Yeah, this is for me

fuck it

Too late for him to try and change his ways

Too damn late for a second chance.