We're all in the same game, just different levels. Dealing with the same hell, just different devils.
Your words they tear at your skin,& you continue to let your mind win. & no mater how many stitches you sew, & try to cover up, hoping they wont show, I can see the stitches on your heart. I can see where you've been torn apart.
When you speak, your voice shakes.
Your skin & Bones, Nothing left to take. Self destruction really is a beautiful thing.
Just like the bloody broken mirror on the wall.
you've lost your soul, your heart, your sanity, your all.
Tears stain your face for days.
& you walk around knowing everyone can see your pain.
But you have to learn to find the
Beauty in the Broken.
You have to start picking up the pieces.
Try & make a half, into a whole.
Even though we both know, That no matter how tight the seams are,
The scars will still show.
It becomes the only thing that you are able to feel.
Pain, the only thing that proves this is real.
Stop waiting on someone to come & fix you.
You are not broken. Just a few bends & cracks.
You're a beautiful girl. Stuck carrying the hate & weight of the world.
Learn to see in the dark.
Learn to hear in silence.
Paint the canvas, show the world that even a work of art, can come from hiding in the dark.
Pick yourself up off the floor, & Begin to mend.
It's okay to cut yourself while picking up the pieces, just don't let it happen again.
You have to be broken down, you build up a new.
& once you realize that the option to do so is within you.
You will know all the answers, & know exactly what to do.