Struggles

They think of me, a troubled soul
one who thrives on violence and gore.
Hopeless, rebellious, and evil they see,
even though all it is, is just me.
Me who is trying to do what is right,
trying to win the battle which I fight.
Try as I may, they do not help out,
finding my fault in my moments of doubt.
The Light is weak and I struggle to hold fast
to the One who keeps me from repeating my past.
The people look down on me still as I try,
judging and punishing. I just want to cry.
They do nothing but damage the strength that I build
with their hard words my faith is what they've killed.
Day after day the struggle goes on.
After a hard night I awake to a new dawn,
where only I find the ones who tear me down,
the ones who turn my weak smile to a frown.
Though I try my best to do what they say,
there are times in my life when my acts start to stray.
I pull myself back, with all of my might,
only to be welcomed by a loved one's bite.
The struggle continues, week after week.
Soon they will see what it's like to be meek.
They don't know the way it feels to be sad,
outcast, spit upon, it makes me so mad.
They don't see the real me, the one crying inside.
The things I feel, in no one can I confide.
They don't believe a t hing that I say,
They turn their backs and hearts away.
Away from the troubled rebellious soul,
the one who will burn like a small charred coal.
Burn in a way that no one should know,
the one who compared to all is so LOW.
It is just me, I try to explain,
but the hate on their faces is still so plain.
The despising looks on the church goers faces,
follows me into my safest places.
Always known as the snake that slithers,
slowly this small girl fades and withers.