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Your love
has left me malnourished
and begging for scraps
To the girls who are secretly so broken
You WILL be alright
I know you have scars on your soul
Maybe your heart
Possibly your wrists
None of this is your fault
And even if you think it is
Let it go
Not that you can, that easily
But try
I know you are broken
I know you're not okay
Especially when people ask how you are and you answer "I'm fine"
When what you really mean is "I'm alive"
But what do you really care about your own survival anymore
Well I just want you to know
There is beauty in broken glass
And to me
There is immeasurable beauty
In broken girls
So don't you ever forget
You cannot be defined by pain
You're too beautiful for that
Stay strong, broken girl
Nothing is ever really broken
Repost if you are a broken girl. So this message may reach as many of you as possible.

I am here for you. I may just be a sloth but if you message me: I'm fine.
Just randomly it will be our code for "I'm not fine at all" and I will be there for you.
you wage a war against yourself,
because,
you only see what you want to of yourself.

people notice the change in you,
but,
they trick themselves to believe it's not true.

each day is a battle without gain,
and,
your mind is clouded with constant rain.

your light slowly starts to dim,
and,
you forget how to light it again.

you begin to lose the war,
and see no reason to fight anymore,
but all you need is one win,
to bring all this sadness to an end.

but sadly,
you lose again.

-a.r
Those beautiful eyes were lost in that book
with a perfect smile, and the most beautiful look.
I met a girl with flowers in her hair
not a crown or a clip, but cherry blossoms
they bloomed from her ears and her scalp and the hollow of her neck
she was a garden of eden

I met a girl with flowers in her hair
and roots that ran all the way down through her feet
they never held her in place
instead, they made the earth upon which she stood her home

I met a girl with flowers in her hair
who let summer sunbeams catch her eyes
as they glistened among ferny tendrils
until the autumn came
Not super proud of this one.
 Jan 2015 Mohammad Skati
Cristina
reading a book isn't about
reading good words carefully chosen
to create a magic display
of perfect scenes,
it's about feeling every moment and movement
that happens between covers
like that would happen in your present reality
and you're there,
ubiquitous,
deciding whether or not the action should continue.
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