I lost my heart, and I continue to live.
I lost faith in love, and I continue to give.
I feel no pain, still I continue to cry.
I believe in truth, so why do I lie?
I say I'm happy, but I'm unbearably sad.
I said I forgave you, but truth is I'm mad.
I'm trying to forget, to move on.
But each step that I take, your still gone.
I told you it's over, but we both know it's not.
You still have my heart, and that's all that I got.

I learned to fly,
With broken wings.
With a stolen voice,
I learned to sing.
I learned to live,
With a broken heart.
With a broken mind,
I learned to think.

I have to lie.
Keep it inside.
This is my life,
I refuse to die.

The pain I feel,
It isn't real.
Learn to heal,
Skip a meal.

Hide my demon,
Fight for freedom,
My own Eden,
Refuse to weaken.

Hold it in,
Force a grin.
Raise my chin,
Fight to win.

Resist the screams.
Believe in dreams.
Rip the seam,
My own team.

No matter what you say or do,
Someone out there cares for you.
No matter how you look or feel,
Someone wants to help you heal.
Someone wants to heal your scars,
Keep you warm wrapped, in their arms.
No matter what you think or say,
In their heart you'll forever stay.
Someone wants to hold you tight,
Someone loves your smile bright.
Someone wants to care for you,
And teach you words like I love you.

I don't judge people by their mistakes and imperfections. I've
got my own scars.
Everyone will face something at one point
that will change them for life.
Never judge people for being depressed. Never.
Everyone faces a battle that you may know nothing about.
Never judge people for what is only skin deep.
The most broken people tend to love the most.
Don't focus on their imperfections. Don't focus on trying
to fix their mistakes. Focus on loving them.
Focus on trying to help them love themselves.
Teach them.
Demons aren't always visible from the outside.
Their demons are burrowed in their soul.
They are hidden.
Very few will completely understand how it feels.
Don't judge people for the cracks in their personality.
Their cracks show how many times they were under pressure,
and didn't completely shatter.

it's a little ironic
that there is something wrong with my heart
that I, this hopeless poet, has a defect
in her favorite topic, her favorite metaphor-
and that this, this, the source of her life, should fail her.