A Life To Be

What is a life to me when I don't get to lead. You call it home because it's your own, but not to me. As I go on with my life I get nowhere. Like a foolish bald man trying to grow hair.Inside, my guts feel rotted like a fish that's never been gutted. I never get to do what I wanted. Once I was strong but something is wrong. Because now I'm frightened more than ever. My anger is controlled by the one serving mold. Whos food comes straight from her tormented soul.Stand up to her I dare to feel more dispair.Can't stand to see that face again. But they love me you see. Feeling guilty if I flee. What is life to me when I can't be me. I've lived 50 years but in the last 3 I've cried many tears. My heart is broken in pieces. I feel weak and worthless. What is life to me. Definetly not what I planned it to be. As raindrops fall I know it must be. My God is crying for me. *this is written by Furor Scribendi. Someone real close to my heart. I hope you like it