When he put that hunting knife to my face, to my throat while

he was squeezing it, and then sliced the knife across my body,

I don't know, it changed everything in me from that point on. 

It's hard to explain, but maybe you are able to picture it?

I don't expect anyone who's not been through it to

fully grasp each and every step of this situation.

But I throw it out there, in the hopes someone will get what

it was all about, and what it would've made anyone feel like...

The hunting knife, you see, it came out of nowhere,

after a vicious type of beating on me which left me in a pool

of my own blood.  His intention was to kill me 'cause he couldn't

deal with himself... it's what happened, what I still deal with today.

It changed me forever is the absolute truth of it all now.

As much as I don't want it to have had that effect on me.

I scream, I cry, and I sink with the memory of him...

And I just can't sleep anymore, for fear he'll get me there.

Him and other haunts are alive today...

He killed me that night,

yet I was revived and I survived.

But at what cost one is left to wonder?

No blessing in this miracle,

if you ask me quite honestly.

He took me, annihilated me,

I'm still alive but look at me now...