Last night, I cried myself to sleep.
You've been missing for a week.
You told me your secret.
And trusted me to keep it.
And you made me promise not to tell,
That you'd been living through hell.
"Daddy hurt me", you once said.
He had hit you right in the head.
And as soon as the liquid touched his tongue,
He became overpowered by whiskey and rum.
After a while, you said "It's okay now, everything's alright".
But it wasn't- you ran away that night.
And I know you, you showed me your scars.
Told me your razor blade was hidden inside your guitar.
I tried, begged you to stop.
But you said it was the only way, and you would not.
I told you there were other ways.
But you said you were just too afraid.
You aren't- you are strong.
And you've held on for so long.
Honey, please don't let go now.
Find your way back home somehow.
You are beautiful, no matter what they say.
Is that what made you run away?
Just remember that the razor next to your wrist,
Isn't the way to cover up the bruises from Daddy's fist.
Please, please come home.
We're worrying about you out there on your own.
I know you're a big girl and you said "I can do it by myself".
You said you didn't need any help.
But lovely, you're only fourteen.
Not that anyone should have to live on the streets.
I don't know your father, who he is,
But I pray that he regrets everything he did.
And I feel awful, because maybe if I had told,
You wouldn't be living out by yourself in the cold.
We don't know who you're with, or where you are.
We're just praying out our little hearts,
That you're somewhere safe, that you're okay.
Wishing you would come home today.
Maybe you didn't feel like you were good enough,
But let me tell you, you are loved.
Honey, please come back home.