I think of my story and I weep,
that day was the end of every peaceful sleep
constantly awake, daydreaming
your name on the tip of my tongue, always screaming
people always want to hear my story
as if hearing is some kind of glory
they say “but that’s just what boys do.”
and again
“but that’s just what boys do.”
i bet i wouldn’t have to explain myself if it was him it had happened to
all my hopes and dreams are now astray
by this never ending nightmare in my way
