deepundergroundpoetry.com
Spite fueled Glory
All this life I've been looked down upon in pity or fear
Scarred knuckles and skin from all the fights younger me was in
Mastered a glare sharp enough to cut when I was little
Practiced in a mirror on a little wooden stool
All this life I have seen the way people see me
The signs of poverty followed me so blatantly
Trailer trash is what you could've called me
My sisters and brothers all different dads
Drug dealers daughter and gypsy mutt flavoring
Tell me again how useless I am without a man
Oh please, tell me again how stupid I am
Tell me again how I won't graduate high school
Tell me how I shouldn't apply to college
Pull my hair and snarl in my face how I'm just a disgrace
A teenage girl; a preachers charity case
Pin me and exorcise the queer in my veins
The elevating hate and spite fueling my rise to glory
There's a sick pleasure I take in knowing I have more than they ever will in spirit alone
Sometimes the fires run low in this soul of mine
But give me something to spite and I'll become flame
There is Nothing that will stop me in this world
No matter the damage I will stand up and in anger I will succeed
Spite might be an ugly word but what a drug
Scarred knuckles and skin from all the fights younger me was in
Mastered a glare sharp enough to cut when I was little
Practiced in a mirror on a little wooden stool
All this life I have seen the way people see me
The signs of poverty followed me so blatantly
Trailer trash is what you could've called me
My sisters and brothers all different dads
Drug dealers daughter and gypsy mutt flavoring
Tell me again how useless I am without a man
Oh please, tell me again how stupid I am
Tell me again how I won't graduate high school
Tell me how I shouldn't apply to college
Pull my hair and snarl in my face how I'm just a disgrace
A teenage girl; a preachers charity case
Pin me and exorcise the queer in my veins
The elevating hate and spite fueling my rise to glory
There's a sick pleasure I take in knowing I have more than they ever will in spirit alone
Sometimes the fires run low in this soul of mine
But give me something to spite and I'll become flame
There is Nothing that will stop me in this world
No matter the damage I will stand up and in anger I will succeed
Spite might be an ugly word but what a drug
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