When I was young I used to stand,
beside a man and hold his hand.
I used to feel so safe you see.
With him beside, my heart set free.
But slowly, as I, did start, to grow,
the man, I did, then get, to know.
A shallow man with no esteem,
no pity in his eyes that gleamed.
A vicious man who loved to beat,
he lived his life, drunk in retreat.
I dropped his hand and edged away.
I knew that I could never stay.
I left him stand upon his own,
as I did venture out alone.
I found my way to this new nest,
a mortal wound inside my breast.
I found new hands all warm with love,
and decided time to rise above.
I now live life as best I can,
to grow into a better man.