It feels like yesterday.

How we stood in our window, smoking cigarettes

Listening to our song, with the sun on our faces

Laughing, kissing

Talking about our future with hope in our eyes

Looking at each other with butterflies in our stomachs

Now those plans are gone, just like you

Our song is no longer our song

The sun is replaced with clouds

Our laughter is replaced with silence and tears

The butterflies are gone

All there's left are grief and the question why?

Still I cry

Remembering everything

Preventing myself from moving on

No matter how far I've come,
how much time has passed

It's still there, like a fresh wound

Every day is a battle against the past

I'm a prisoner of our memories

When I look into his eyes I see the eyes of the devil staring back at me.

But they're not his.
Just a reflection of the past.

I went from dirt to a queen.

Can I be a queen covered in mud?

My mind is empty, passive, yet filled with chaos from the past.

Afraid to feel again, to give in.

Scared this is another trap.

What can I give him that no one else can? Why me?

Is there another hidden agenda?

I can't resist his words, yet they scare me to death.

It's like a love song I wanna play on repeat,
but still wishing that the record would break.

Before I do.

There we were.

Standing by the lake,
me with your jacket on my shoulders shaking from the cold.

Holding the rose you made out of a napkin in my hand.

You were laughing in embarrassment when you handed it to me.

And I knew in that moment.
You had me.

You put a spell on me.

You released the butterflies.

In a few hours I'll be standing face to face with him for the first time.

The boy with the dangerous brown eyes..

The boy who wants to be by my side although he knows I'm just scattered pieces.

There's something about him.

He's slowly melting my heart.

I can feel the butterflies frozen in ice starting to move again.

Such a wierd, scary feeling that I can't stop.

I feel myself giving in,
though I promised myself I wouldn't.

Oh what a dangerous boy..

Walking through the corridors, feeling the judgemental looks burning on my skin.

To them I'm a stereotype, a girl filled with tattoos, a skinhead jacket and a fake smile.

A threat maybe?

No I can't be?
I'm laughing all the time, so no one will notice.

If they only knew..

What's hiding inside me.
A broken sensitive heart.

A trumatized girl,
who only wants to be herself,
without people looking at her differently and constantly.

Do they see the victim-stamp tattooed on my forehead?
Do they know? Can they?