“Alas, we found ourselves living in a broken world with sad souls but happy masks.”

She just wants to understand what it feels like to be herself again.

Fear lives in the mind of doubt. Courage lives in the minds of those who dream.

Find beauty in my scars. For I’m a walking gallery of several masterpieces.

They silenced her tongue, for they feared how sharp it might cut them.

I am suffocated by the arms, I once called home.

In my quiet is when the voices in my head get the loudest.

Within me lies an abundance of love that your ego was too blind to see.

Perfection is what I craved, from a far from perfect world.

All burdens are gifted heavy, but through you runs a abundance of strength strong enough to carry it.

My skin will continue to carry your memories, even if my mind wants to forget.

There is strength in breaking and becoming.

I refuse to be strong for them, for I’m allowing myself to embrace my weak.

Beauty now lies behind some of the deepest of scars where pain once called home.

There is magic in shattering, for the most beautiful masterpieces are made from broken glass.

They ask me what it is to be a woman, as if I have to explain what it is to be a human.

I’ve seen far too many people lose their chance, waiting for others to catch up.

My love is like a trigonometry problem simplified by my heart’s mint green genies, the broken being in me sings a million epiphanies, my life is but colors spilled in polaroids of caring butterflies.

He says he doesn’t know what to do my mind screams back I will not love you in halves just because you are too afraid.

The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.

Are you aware of the wilderness you awoke when you broke me?

They saw her beaten and broken I saw the birth of a warrior.

If hurting me doesn’t hurt you, don’t ever come to me with a reason to fix us.

Money doesn’t buy happiness but it does buy enough wine to drown out the memories.

The goodbyes seem so untouchable yet causing impossible hopeless scars.