Armour for Violence

I suppose I didn't realise how bad I was,
I didn't understand the extent of my depression
and that of the power of my anxiety

such a hard place to be
such a sad mind full of misery
a body with knowledge of violence
not just to receive it but to give it too
an angry time, of hate and lust
a false sense of security
a placebo of trust.

a place I didn't want to see, a person who wasn't me
it was someone else running the show
a nasty infestation, that was learning to grow
feeding itself off every fight,
every punch thrown, a delight
words of hate made it viscous
a crisp slap across the face, delicious!

a beautiful girl being swallowed by abuse
telling herself this is normal
not realizing her pain, she moved forth
alone with her journal

Her depression and anxiety weakened and shed.
Her armour of hate, lay on her bed.

She has left that who had made her this way.
And in vulnerable moments it is that she will portray.

On goes the armour, on goes the pain.
On goes this depression again.
Here comes the anxiety.
Here comes the misery.
And there goes that girl to pain again.