The Truth Is...

The truth is...
I'm tired of you telling me what to do
I'm not yours to control.
I hate being treated like the dog you tempt in with kindness,
Then beat for fun.
Your doormat I am not.
And I have told you this, to no avail.
The truth is
I hate even more when you make me doubt
Whether I have a right to be angry

The truth is...
I miss you more than I can ever say.
It's not like I'm missing my heart,
But, rather, a small piece of my soul.
I don't know how to ask for that back.
I don't even know if I want to.
The truth is, though
I can't be your villain.
I'm already my own.

The truth is...
I'm not sure I can be your friend.
Not after what I've seen you do.
You can't treat people like that
And expect no one to stand up to you.
I can't forgive you for hurting someone I love.
The truth is
That doesn't mean I don't worry about you.

The truth is...
I KNOW I'm worth something
It's just hard to remember most of the time.
I know, theoretically, I have a right to be treated well,
But I'm used to being told otherwise.
The truth is
I doubt whether I have a right to stand up for myself,
Because it's easier to accept the pain than to try to find the strength

The truth is...
Most days,
I don't even want to get out of bed
Because every moment awake
Is another moment I want to die.
Most nights
I just want to get on a bus
And go somewhere far away
Wander into a dark alley
And let someone do the job for me
Because, most of the time, I truly believe I am worthless
And a drain on society
And a hinderance to the people I love
The truth is
The only thing that keeps me alive
Is the love of a child,
And knowing that I made a promise, once upon a time.