"You are beautiful,"
They said.
"You are intelligent,"
They said.
"You are kind,"
They said.
"You are sexy,"
They said.
"You are mine,"
They told you.
As they left,
They took with them
Your beauty,
Your intelligence,
Your compassion,
Your self-confidence.
You are left
Nothing more than ten fingers
Feeling for what isn’t there;
Nothing more than one stomach,
Hungry for the love that didn't exist;
Nothing more than two eyes,
Looking for the beauty that seems invisible.
Your life is composed by a series of leavings,
Losses
Each time a bit of you is given,
Just to be yanked away,
Leaving bruises and scars.
You have to be there to take the needle.
Find some string,
And stitch yourself back up.
Sew in your beauty.
Patch up your intelligence.
Stitch in your compassion.
Embroider your self-confidence.
Because only you can make yourself whole again.
Make yourself worth something.
Make you you.