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Stop giving me this s**t,
Stop putting me through hell,
I'm that dying flower,
A corpse inside it's shell.

Where were you when I was a kid?
Were you there at least once or twice?
You need to back the ******** up,
It's my only effing advice.

I have all his this hate stored up for you,
I guess that'll be your gift this year,
Because of you,my family's a pile a s**t,
At least someone cares.

So if you saw me,in a store today,
Would you even recognize your grand-daughters face?
Could you tell I was meaner?
Would you be able to speak?
Would you know I was that little girl?
But look what I've grown up to be.

I'm a real b***h now,I have you know,
I've thought of this subject since long ago.
You've ruined my family,
Set it into flames,
I'm sick of your damn excuses,
Your tiring games.

So shut the hell up,and listen to me well,
Cause this is the last time I'm going to tell,
To tell of my hate I have for you,
To tell of how many tears have hit the floor,

To tell of those stories,from long ago and before,
Before this all happened,
This big pile of s**t you laid at my door,
For all the troubles you caused,
For that little nasty whore.

This is me,your grand-daughter for never,
I won't be talking to you anytime soon,
I won't be that girl on the picture in your wallet,
I won't be that perfect little child,
Or whatever it is,you liars call it.