Psych Row Pt V: Broken Inner Child

My inner child is five years old.
Taught to fear people through words so cold.
My self-esteem is also that of five,
a few kind words is what keeps me alive.

The anger, the insults, the cursing and rage,
all keep my mind locked in a cage...
where no one can hurt me and no one can see,
what all their abuse is doing to me.

I cry and I pray for happier times,
when they all adored me, and I wrote happier rhymes!
I open my eyes, and they're all still there,
Their angry voices, and ice-cold stare.

Calling me stupid and worthless and dumb.
All this hurts me, and makes my heart numb.
I know I may never hear a kind word again,
for as long as I'm stuck here, till I don't know when.

My self-esteem is five years old,
battered and broken and beaten and cold.
They may never know why I am how I am.
Oh yeah, that's right. They don't give a damn.