Part one - Divorce at eight.

I sit crying, memories flooding back
Of sitting, now feeling that I should be wearing all black,
as my mother and father
argued over the bother

that I, once again had caused.
Then they paused
to find me crying
almost dying

From the pain
of knowing the name
DIVORCE
Did they think that I didn't know

What it was like for them
to hate each other so,
I thought maybe I should just go...
but no

I stayed, I was eight
and now I'm sitting in weight,
again, for the pain
and the blame.

This time its him,
six years it's been
since they started going out
he even coped with me being about

But now for change
I've hit rage
I'll sit and cry, just like before
only this time more.

I hate the war
and I hate the lour
of needing to hear them fight no more.
Twice now, this I have wanted

this must be
a running joke,
God must want me to die and choke
on the tears and pain, and the constant blame

It's all from me
but it's the only way I can see it would be,
a world so happy, and free of pain, a world that doesn't know my
name
a world without me, no longer will I take the blame