Vacation From The Trauma

Are you ready

Tayo????

Yeah…

This ain’t fiction.

This is files, court dates, and silent cries.

Listen close.

Verse 1

Foster children livin’ in the system,

Pimped by strangers, still trapped in the system,

All in the name of money, power, respect,

Babies ain’t receivin’ nothin’ but neglect.

Please don’t treat me like a freakin’ beast,

I am a human being — age seven, released

To no police, no parents watchin’ over me,

It was me, myself, and I — no custody.

Childhood wasn’t easy, nights stayin’ tense,

Dad skin poppin’, gettin’ high, fist to my lens,

Black eye truth, pain I couldn’t disguise,

Tell me who I run to when a child needs to hide?

Hook / Chorus

I need a vacation from the trauma,

From the trap house drama, no armor,

8 years old in a courtroom standin’,

9 years old with death in my hand.

I need compassion, not another scar,

Not another stranger sayin’ “I care” too far,

Hear me, see me, don’t let me end,

Help me live — don’t let this cycle spin.

Verse 2

Eight years old in a courthouse hall,

Nine years old contemplatin’ the fall,

One run, one hide, one place to breathe,

Tryna disappear before pain notices me.

So I go hard with my pen in my comprehension book,

Jottin’ these feelings down — please take a deeper look,

Embrace my pain, my anger, my rage,

Have the courage just to comprehend one page.

Take all of me from the start to the end,

Clothed in misfortune, wounds I defend,

Battle scars stitched in emotional skin,

Ill-fortune letters carved deep within.

Hook / Chorus

I need a vacation from the trauma,

From the trap house drama, no armor,

Eight years old in a courtroom standin’,

Nine years old with death in my hand.

I need compassion, not another scar,

Not another stranger sayin’ “I care” too far,

Hear me, see me, don’t let me end,

Help me live — don’t let this cycle spin.

Verse 3

Locked horns with parents I never chose,

Bastard child, heart froze in hostile homes,

Not a day sugary sweet, only sour and wild,

Pain aged me quick — stole toys from a child.

Touched by perversion, touched by pretend,

Women say “mother,” but don’t protect in the end,

Don’t call them my sisters, don’t call them my moms,

And y’all want my heart to mend? that’s wrong.

Check my back, filled with war-scar truth,

Child abuse marks on innocent youth,

Little brown boy forced to mature fast,

Imagination boxed up thrown in the past. Bridge (spoken or melodic, slower)

If you listen close…

You’ll hear a child still askin’ for safety.

Not pity.

Protection.

Verse 4 (Final / Message Verse)

So foster children, if you out there and you listenin’

Be aware of strangers whisperin’ friendship,

‘Cause they just might wanna be your friend

Then again Antoine Fisher all over again.

This ain’t just my story it’s history repeatin’

Generational wounds still quietly bleedin’,

So let’s end this vicious cycle today,

Protect the children don’t look away.

Outro

This is for the kids who survived

For the ones still trapped

For the voices buried in files

We end it now