All she ever needed was her parents.
But instead she got a mom that didn’t care, and a dad that wasn’t there.
Longing for a place to call home, for a call on the phone, for an “I love you,” in a soft tone.
Broken-hearted girl, I see you.
Waiting for the apology, that never even came.
Waiting for a change of character, but it all stayed the same.
So then she grew up, wondering if it was her fault, wondering if she was to blame.
No, that’s not yours to carry, you can put it down now.
You can make a sound now —- speak.
Say what’s on your mind, give yourself a chance to be heard.
Can you hear you? I can. I hear you, I see you.
It’s finally your turn to speak.
Giselle Avenue 
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