I am not going to mess this up,
Does perception define reality?
I am more than what they choose to see
So, I am not going to mess this up

I live in London,
And I find it scary
Losing loves, and finding temporary
Work, grafting for the least amount of money
Messed up, but can never leave my city
Not enough love to spread to every
Piece of unsustained family
So instead, I’m still stood,
Trying to have my feelings heard,
Lyrically expressing every flaming word
I have within me
Should I apologise for who I am,
Or fall, flaming?
Reformation, or fall standing?

Whipped for simply being me,
“You’re a fat cunt, Maureen,”
No time to retrieve
Any ounce of self respect,
As the belt is bashed,
And I’m so scared that I can’t breathe
My body’s shaking, and my mind is racing
And I didn’t even get my story

As I’ve grown it’s only worsened
The lilies are lifeless,
And time has dampened
I met Terry at 15 years,
He held my hand, my heart’s in gear
Then one day, he just didn’t talk
I guess he lost our love,
And I’ve been analysing myself,
Trying to figure out what I done wrong

Crying on the bus rides home,
Terry’s the driver, but he don’t wanna talk
Since we split, married my Tony,
But he is just an arse
Comes home drunk, and kicks me out
Of the house
“You’re a fat cunt, Maureen,
He won’t want you no more”
He shouts, and staggers over his words
As I’m walking out
Drying my eyes on my hands,
And baby in my arms

Why couldn’t my dad had been behind me,
When me and Tony met?
Hold me tightly as I bled?
Talked to me like I was his daughter,
Talked to me like I was someone,
Who mattered
Maybe then I would have told my Tony,
Where to stick it
Maybe then I wouldn’t have seen myself
As worthless
Maybe then I wouldn’t have messed things up
Maybe I would have been enough

Maybe he simply didn’t see me

He didn’t save me