I was challenged by someone to write something about myself, something truly deep about my past. well here it is

Born of a father who knew no love.
born of a mother who wanted the above.
into a family of criminals and crooks
doing everything, anything, that it took

raised by a man just as bad,
using woman like some sick fad,
Screaming and yelling filled his days,
never did he want to learn these ways.

brothers of the mother cared little about him.
touching, feeling, molested on whim.
is it wrong inside he hides his pain,
wondering what in hell they had to gain

sitting in his room always wishing for a friend,
maybe, maybe then the pain would mend
laying quietly in his bed,
wondering what it would look with everything red.

suicide was never an escape this he knew.
but on more than one occasion he proved this true
never did the knife slice to deep
and the bullet the gun would keep.

he met a girl, a beauty inside.
for this one, he truly tried.
walking for miles to hold her close.
sadly she hurt him more than most.

now he wonders why the fuck he tried
is all the pain worth the tears he cried.
maybe he was better off alone,
leaving him his shield to hone.

Wanting anything to escape,
of the fire he did partake.
just a sip now and again
drugs and drink his only friends.

memories worst than the dreams.
of blood bursting through the seems.
and a baby blue who should have cried.
truly that day he had died.

twisted and broken, scarred and alone.
truly he had mastered this very zone
years of pain had stopped the tears
blocking out even the worst of fears.

never had he betrayed even one
but they had as if it was fun
trust was broken more than often
would this shell ever soften?

Now he sits, alone again
but knowing he has a friend.
Over the years, some stayed close,
helping him more than most.