There are some things that
I’ll never understand
like why I engraved “F A D E”
into my upper left forearm
and trace over the uneven markings
a little too fondly sometimes.
I didn’t mean for it to be funny,
and I didn’t mean for it
to actually mean something
But it did.
Because scars don’t always fade,
and I wanted the ones left on my heart to
and I wanted the ones left on my arms to
remind me —
that life will hurt you
but life will heal you
and when it does —
Let it.
Let it.
Let it.

I tried to fool myself today but it didn't work.
I wanted to feel okay but I felt like dirt.
Even when I was having fun, I was still sad.
And thinking about that, it makes me mad.

Is true happiness so hard to gain?
Is there no relief to this pain?
It's been a long time since I smiled
for longer than just a little while.

I'm facing the same problems, I feel like a mess.
And I have an unhealthy way of relieving my stress.
So I'm stuck in a cycle I can't seem to break.
A bad habit has started and it feels great.
But it's bad for me and I want to stop.
Cause it hurts me and the people I love.
But when I do it, I know I am sad.
I can be angry and I can be mad.

I'm tired of pretending that I am happy.
I can fool others with a smile but I can fool me.

She can't even notice those eyes,
those eyes that seem to take her threads off, her skin off.
But they don't even know that by the time she reaches home,
she cuts her skin so the blood would flow
out of her sluggish veins.

She can't even look at the sky,
the sky that seemed to fall ******* her open wounds and scars.
But the birds don't even know that as they chirped their way up and soar,
she wishes for the moment when she could finally fly
away from her lonely home.

She can't even turn a deaf ear to a lie,
a lie she wished she never had to hear, as if something so real.
But his lips don't even know that as he tried to show it all,
his lies made up a castle of thorns, of broken hopes,
amused a girl not so strong.

She can't even take a glance at everything around,
everything around her that seems to crush her to the dustiest ground.
But the world doesn't even know how she carries that smile,
all to outbrave a surging vehemence,
an anonymity behind.

She can't spell her words but she sure has the guts,
the guts to keep herself from treading off the expected path.
But there's this one thing that she doesn't even really know,
she may be made up of scars and lies and thorns,
but the beauty in her has not really gone.