The way people look at me
Change me.
The words people speak
Change me.
The unwarranted attention
Changes me.
The hateful stares
Change me.
The world has
Changed me,
And disordered me.
I have become this
Entirely broken thing
And I just can't seem to heal from all of this.
I have been made brittle
And soft.
I can't stand being this weak.
Please,
Just look at me.
I am not
Strong,
Capable,
Beautiful,
Good,
Kind.
I'm not even
Decent.
All of this reforming
Of oneself
For others
Has changed me entirely,
Into a creature whom
Is unsure of it's existence.

I think that I have

Moved on,

Found someone new,

But how can I be sure?

How can I know that I am no longer

Aching for someone I needn't ache for?

I am Unsure.

But I think I'm done,

No more open wounds,

No more raw eyes.

I think I'm done,

I think I've found someone new.

And this time,

She found me first.

And this time,

I am not abandoned.

And this time,

Could be the first

Good time

In a long,

Long time.

I like bruises.

They can be so many beautiful, diverse colors.

Yellow, green,

Something between.

Purple, blue,

Like my emotions too.

They're another set before they form;

These colors are rather warm.

Pink,

Like when I'm at the brink.

Red,

Like when I've lost my head.

And sometimes,

Though not often,

White,

Like the canvas in eyes.

Bruises are beautiful.

Don't you want some too?

You say you raised me

But you didn't.

All you did

was break me.

You entirely changed me.

You shattered my soul.

You turned me into a pitiful,

Shameful girl.

You are no Father,

But rather a monster

Who has rights to me.

I forever want to be

Free

I want to be able to go out and

Breathe

Without limitations

I want to just

Be

I want a world where I can just be

Me

I just want to be

Free

I want to

Sing

Loud and clear

With only nature as

Ear

To my broken

Voice

And my hurting

Words

I just want to be

Free