Rocky roads and crumbling gravel, Fathers work hard to put bread on the table Selfless decisions and callused hands The pain that a mother goes through is one we yet have to understand.
I can't draw or sing so I hope everyday that the curves of the words I write, the rhythm of the syllables I speak, will be enough for you to fall in love with me.
Stop scarring your own skin Tearing your thoughts apart You are a masterpiece of wonders Rebuild yourself and be whole again Write out your demons And tear the paper instead