She showed him all her imperfections,
and he greeted them all with a kiss.
He knew all about her flaws,
but still loved her as if they didn't exist.

Beautiful isn't flawless;
It isn't not being a mess.

Beautiful isn't the perfect hair;
It isn't the best dress to wear.

Beautiful isn't green eyes;
It isn't the most wise.

Beautiful isn't a pretty face;
It isn't elegance or grace.

Beautiful is a heart that hates none,
because it lasts even when the outer beauty is gone.

In the darkest hour of the night,
She woud often get up to write:
She would write to create worlds to escape into;
She would write down all the words she couldn't say to you.

She would write because no one wanted to hear.
She would write down all her fears.
She would write until her fingers swelled.
She would write to find heaven in corners of hell.

She would write because it was the only way to stay sane;
She would write to forget all her pain.
She would write to find a spark of light;
She would write to add colours to a world of black and white.

Whenever she felt like she was
slowly losing herself
she would sit and she would write

Don't say you love me, unless
you have seen me dancing in the rain.
I know you won't mean it, until
you've also seen me struggling through pain.

It's 3:00 AM and sleep won't come.
It's 3:00 AM and I'm feeling numb.

I keep trying to shut down my mind,
But it suprises me with the thoughts it'd find.

I close my eyes, curl up on the bed,
But nothing pushes away the thoughts in my head.

Too tired now to even stop them,
I lay wide awake at 3:00 AM.

Blood is what she is being fed;
Decorated with needles is her bed,
As her sins clean by the fire burning red.

Her body lies in the heart of hell,
Where nothing is destined to go well.
Don't ask her anything, she won't tell.

She has forgotton how the stars look like;
She no more remembers what is light;
All she sees is the fire burning bright.

Pain occupies her body's every part.
Everyday she is reborn, then torn apart,
And all she can do is scream out her heart.

But nothing can now be fine.
She won't ever again see the stars shine,
Because she can't bring back the passed time.

I have always heard them say,
'Hope gradually makes its way.'

When, in reality, as time flies,
Hope doesn't come, it dies.

You, slowly, get fed up of waiting,
And everything around you - you start hating.

With the passage of time,
You realise your life will never be fine.

You watch your world fall apart,
And you try to fix your broken heart.

Then, you give up, not knowing how to cope,
Why? Because there is no hope.