For Reece

Child
I know who you think you are.
You see the dirt,
The muck, and grime
Lying just beneath your eyes.
Lying the same way your mother does to you
When she says you're not worth it.
I know who you think you are,
When you stare into the mirror
And see another body staring back at you.
I know who you think you are
When you cry out with your blood soaked hands.
I know who you think you are
When the cuts run too deep
To feel anything anymore,
But the numb cold sensation
Of life just before death.
The same sort of feeling as alcohol
Slips down scratchy throats
After you fought for breath
While you were screaming out
Words you heard at school.
That haunt you in your dreams.
Child,
I know the depths of hell
That you walk through each day
I witnessed the feelings
And felt the same way.
There's hope beyond the reckoning
It's not a joke.
It seems impossible
So inescapable
That you can't breath
It's like your skin is burning
Every time you speak.
You want to change the way you sound
But you're who you are
And it hurts like daggers;
We're cut deep by our sickness
And it's not that we were born wrong
But we've been attacked
Because Hell is afraid of what can be done
By our broken vessels.
Our hearts are so big
That we were deflated
To make way for the demons to speak.
Child,
I know who you think you are,
But you're not the cuts, and bruises,
And the things that you hate.
Child,
I know who I thought I was;
And we're not either of those things.
Hated, and despised;
But you've never been loved more.