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Bruised and tattered, loving to be used.
Mind never shattered, eager to put to use.
Seeing disappearing acts shy away from our existence.
Writing long letters to yourself to signify the ways of your wondering mind
This ain’t that superficial pain, but even the slightest slip of a tongue can rupture the strongest heart.
Whoever said different levels of shame doesn't hurt and cause pain.... What would I be if that were me?
Imperfections come with the cost of beauty, weighing each scar, judging each pain.
Forgetting is my luxury I’ll never be sustained
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