I've grown up in Detroit, Michigan since I was 4 years old. I am a foster child, and I was sexually abused in my first foster home. I have one real sister that I know of... I don't know her on a personal level, but I know that her name is Mykia. My foster mother's name is Sandy, my father is Joe, and my foster brothers names are: Tyler, Mich, Austin, Stephen, Charley, and Devin. My sisters are: ... more »
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Sami Woodall Poems
She's left all alone, lost in the dark, noone can help her, she's falling apart.
Girl was born, girl was abandoned, girl was raped, and left emptyhanded.
The scars remind me, that the past is real, the scars remind me, to have no fear.
Love is the slowest form of sucide
Love is the slowest form of sucide, that I know, love is the pain, that will never go.
I Miss You
I miss the smile, upon your face, I miss your spirit, full of grace.
'I love you'
It started with 'I love you, ' he would always say it to me, and I would say it back, I was so happy!
My Baby Girl
I want this baby, oh so deeply, but how can I take care of her, how can I keep it?
Why don't you like me? Why don't you love me? Is it because I'm getting fat? Is it because you think I'm ugly?
she came from heaven, no doubt in my mind, she is my protecter, she's there all the time.
Everything I've ever known in life is gone... Gone is the smile, I wore on my face,
Don't Judge Me
People call me freaky, due to all the black, and when they talk shit, they better stay back.
The wrong Kind of Love
I remember, when he was drunk, he would hold me down, he would go inside of me, and warn me not to tell.
Tired of living in fear
I'm tired of hiding in the shadows, hiding myself away, I'm tired of living in fear, that you will go astray.
Tyler 1990-2005 (not the Tyler in my fam...
I knew a kid from foster care, whose name was Tyler, he had lots of troubles, he became a fighter.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
She's left all alone,
lost in the dark,
noone can help her,
she's falling apart.
Lost is her voice,
she cannot sing,
lost is her sight,
she cannot see.
Lost is the fire,
in her eyes,
lost is her conscience,
that made her do right.
Lost is her soul,
that controlled her life,
lost is her heart,
and her beautiful life.
Lost is everything,
that made her up,
lost is everything,
even her cuts.