Standing Up

Blood splattered on the floor,

body beaten, bruised, and broken.

This is how you left me,

your toy...

Now you're mad cause I don't talk to you,

Well maybe it's cause I don't want to,

I'm scared of getting hurt again,

picked up and thrown out the door again,

Maybe I don't talk to you,

because of these things that you do!

I hate being your little toy,

I hate seeing your spoiled boy,

I hate you saying that I'm spoiled,

you think of my plans that you have foiled,

Well, guess what?

I'm on my way out of here,

no matter what else you may hear.

I'm running, flying, out the door,

not coming back anymore.