The Dark Story

I remember long ago
When there was no snow.
I lived in Nevada for a while
My family was mean and vile.
Uncle was playing roulette
With friends, they bet.
Money down, barrel spun
Under the beating sun.
I walked out and heard it
The gun went off, I was a kid.
I was examining, intrigued now
I was wondering why and how.
He was the only light in my life
Know that night has become my knife.
Gun shots and bodies near me
Nothing new, deaths weekly.
Mentally scarred and damaged
Just sit in my backyard.
We moved one year, no warning
It was an early, bright morning.
To Minnesota, where snow came
And where none knew my name.
Then my mom found a man
Who hurt my body and mind
Stole anything he could find.
Meth riddled his mind and body
I tried to keep him away from me.
He left, I made my own bad choices
Finally acknowledged the voices.
Schizophrenia became worse
So I wrote about all my curses.
Got into drugs using and dealing 
My mental health depleting.
Watched murder and suicide videos
Made some enemies on both sides.
My life has never been so bright
Hence why I do so love the night.
Self harm and drugs were my cure
Only to lead me, to simply lure.
I have been at gun point and knife point 
All kinds of dangers, nothing to joint.
Fear never really bothered me
Floating is fun, alone in the sea.