I was but a bud in a cage, a witness to a loathsome ‘home’,
observing hearts pierced on poisoned thorns, a Family syndrome
No light to grow my withering leaves, my petals dyed to black,
it seems the baggage placed upon this prison left quite a few cracks

Winters cold stunting growth, I found my mind had become numb,
This hatred, a seed sown, a personality becoming of equal sums
Nurtured on meals of spite and hated, a...