She found herself painting her pain away
and writing her heartache away.
She escaped all the ones who hurt her,
creating an extension from pain to painting
and far more.
She transfigured all the betrayals,
broken trusts, hurt
into stepping steps.
Indulging in her passions,
she found escape.
Letting her to be swayed by the pain
than to be drowned in it.

Talking to you
when I felt weird,
makes me feel insane and crazy.

Talking to you
when I am sad
makes me feel I am sensitive and emotional.

You made me feel all this in the worst of ways,
because I met someone who,
when I was crazy, was crazy with me.
When I was sad, they understood me.

In their acceptance I found who I was
and embraced myself for who I am.

You came in my life
with the words “I love you at first sight”
I should’ve known better for you had a hidden bowie knife.
Would you blame me if I believed in fairytales?
For I was so young and naive.

I did not reciprocate those feelings back,
Did you take it to your ego,
and decided to play that game?
or was that your intention all along?
Because you wore me down with kindness and care,
till I was soft and vulnerable.

Weaving your beautiful lies,
you got me to entrust my heart and soul.
Glamouring my vision over the months,
you wore down the walls
and got past the borders and guards.

You decided to take of the mask
and drop the truth like a bomb,
when I was defenseless, weak and unarmed.
For the caring and affectionate person I knew was all a facade
under which laid a deplorable and cynical soul.

Wearing me down till I was unfortified,
was a part of your maneuvering all along.
You reeled me in with care,
just so you can hurt me with a smite.

You broke my vision of what is all good in this world;
where kindness and care isn’t always itself,
but a way to get past the walls.
You made me taste the bitter after taste of those sweet words.
and scarred my innocent soul.

You broke her,
for she no longer sees kindness and care the same,
but fear the ones who show her kindness,
will do the same.

I am still that shy girl who’s afraid to approach people and have her words and thoughts heard. I am still that girl who fantasizes scenarios of her confident self. I am still that girl who’s afraid of social interaction. I am still that girl who mentally prepares herself just to say hi on the phone. I am still that girl who’s silent in one of those corners. I am still that girl who mutters and stutters words and sometimes finds it difficult to decipher her own emotions and thoughts. I am still that girl who doesn’t run because she’s afraid of her body being judged. I am still that girl and is more magnified some days.
Just this time she has a little more faith in herself. She wants to be louder than her “not good enough” talks. She wants to be bolder and burn brighter than her fears. She doesn’t want to be en-caged by the fear of others thoughts and words because it really wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth not reaching her potential. It wasn’t worth not moving forward. She’s the same girl, with the same dreams except for this time she wants to move past the fear for herself.

“It’s becoming tougher to love you every time you hurt me. It’s becoming tougher to trust you every time you betray me. It’s becoming tougher to be vulnerable every time you exploit me. It’s becoming tougher to lend you my heart when it feels like an open wound in your hand. You taunt me every opportunity you find, brag about my flaws occasionally, criticize and act cold at times. I am tired of visiting the restroom as though it is my sanctuary during occasions, shedding tears and walk out numbing my heart. We ought to be encouraging, loving and supporting one another and not pushing the other down to rise. But the heartaches are becoming often and old wounds are being reopened. It’s becoming tiring to experience it over and over again. I guess for it to not hurt anymore, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”

I feel the ebbing flow
of venomous pain in my veins.
I feel the thoughts like bullets to my brain,
the emotions crashing down like turbulent waves.
I see the scars
rawer than before.
So here I am,
listening to music
louder than before.
Painting my heart
with more colors than before,
because it all hurts more than before.

Your tone was like a blade,
that skimmed her skin.
Your words had cut deep,
stabbed her heart;
scarred her soul
and embedded itself into her memory,
playing like a loop in her head.
For your words are now ghosts that hunt her
in the darkest of times,
making her sweat smell like terror.