A Broken Masterpiece
I see someone more than myself.
She’s beautiful, she’s fun.
I look at the girl beneath my skin.
Who she used to be was amazing.
Pain crumbles her soul, but no one sees.
She acts out, she tells her wounds.
No one cares and they are very aware.
Too caught up in their own, she sits and cries.
She is pouring out for love, pouring out for hope.
Just to be left all alone.
One day the girl wants to be able to see.
She wants to be who she used to be.
All these thoughts in her head.
The thoughts stay around for awhile.
What do I do, how will I survive, will this get better?
I look up at the sky and ask why.
I must be surrounded always.
If not I start to wonder again, and who knows where my mind will go.
Very broken, the type of broken that can’t be fixed.
The type you live with, piece by piece.
Maybe I was meant to be broken.
