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From The Girl Who Knows Sadness And Fear (A Written Scribble Piece)

Updated on January 28, 2017

I am a painting, but lacking a definition. I've been waiting for a smile. A sweet, pure smile to be painted all over my face. It's like a story all over my mind, but the music doesn't match every beat.

I can't be perfect and I know that. There's still this one thing that I thirst for. I can't handle things all by myself. There is always tear my eyes, but it is hidden in the moment you will stare on my pure face. There is this thing that wipes my screaming tears away, the happiness from people who treasures me the most. But there is a hindrance for making me pure. I used to be with them. I used to search for those starry eyes that will let me see the bright side. I failed to find that smile. I was betrayed, broken. Now I am in the corner where I used to.

I never expect that I will be here again, lonely, broken and afraid as usual.

I don't have an idea how betrayal, bitterness and cruelty brought me here once again. I turned to be afraid. Afraid to get along too much from my reflections. Afraid to get along too much to these different identities around me. I'm afraid that I could open up the deepest of me with this circle with me in the middle.

Am I aware of them using my identity against me, or just being afraid to prejudice in people's minds? Yes. More than my poetic statements conquered me. Maybe because I was on the risky side before and I don't want to be there again so I keep on playing the safe side, which seems to be more dangerous.

I don't know who am I now, and probably you won't understand how imperfectly poetic and deep my life was. I am grasping and seeking for a life that can just trust someone with my weirdest and strangest secrets like how the sunset touches the waters as it makes a farewell.

Trust? Trust is a fruit of fiction. Even though, it alread broke me to a lot of pieces. It destroyed me a lot of times. I turned out to be so tired of fixing myself everyday. I'm tearing, I'm bleeding, but I'm losing myself in an instance. This is nothing but my dark time, one of those times in my life where I unintentionally brings up the past and think what will happen tomorrow. I'm tired. I'm so tired. I'm tired trying and crying for the same reason, all my life. The man and the roses. The rain is an endless summer. The waters are the tears in my eyes trying to get dry but the storm still rages.

I'm no longer crying in the corner. You can see me dying in the middle of the road on a deep midnight with a red rose on my hand. Smile is only an illusion to conceal who I really am.

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    • Jodah profile image

      John Hansen 7 months ago from Queensland Australia

      This is heartfelt and sadly disturbing, Era. You just need to add a photo or three and proofread it again as there are quite a few typos.