I could never understand why you keep beating me up and then apologize as if the “sorry” will remove the scars on my face.
I could never figure out what goes on your mind every time you raise your fist in ought to bash some discipline into my ever-struck bruise embellished face.
Isn’t the fear in my eyes enough for you to know how much I respect you?
Isn’t my silence quiet enough for you to understand that you rule over me and there’s nothing I can ever say to you in attempts to disrespect what you stand for?
All the make-up in the world could never be enough to hide all these scars, because your scars were never meant to heal but to stick.-You know sometimes I ask myself if you’re doing all this to prove that my beauty was meant for your eyes only and now you’ve finally…
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