Purpose of Pain

Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.
I'd rather someone write a song for me because song mean so much to me. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. I've known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. I felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression.... attempted suicide. I remember razor blades and knives and whatever else I could find. I remember going on for years before my mother found out and put me on the mental hospital to scare me. She didnt try to help or tried to understand, she just thought I saw it on tv and started doing it. I never could tell her all the things wrong in my life and how many times I begged God to just let me feel normal. The first time I cut myself I was seven years old and I didnt really know what it was, my mom never told my dad and didnt ever adress it until she found out I did it when I was 15. She put me in a mental rehab facility for 72 hours to scare me to stop. I never told anyone beca