You look in my eyes as your about to hurl an iron at me, you see you, a pregnant 11th grade girl.
You see the product of you and daddy, and everything i do is wrong so now you beat me.
You pull my hair, make me cry. Tell me you could have had an abortion, tell me i could have died.
You hit me, you yell and scream. And every night i pray that this could be a dream.
I wish that i'll wake up and you wouldn't hit me. I wish that i'll wake up, but this could never be.