Lunar-wiccan

You call me weak, I might be, You call me names, I take them, I stood up to you, You pushed me down, My body feels hot, My knuckles turn white, I close my eyes, When I open them you lay on the floor, Broken, Bleeding, You get up and swing at me, I swing back harder than ever before, As you fall I see tears of blood, Istill feel rage, I still feel hate, Everyone stares as they pull me away, Still swinging, Covered in blood that is not mine, You called me weak, But my hate for you made me strong.