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I saw it
I knew it
Your impact... A decay
Your words... Growing a constant tumor
Your presence... Cancerous to my mind
I sensed it
It already consumed me
I feel it stagnant in my blood
A leech to my skin's rot
I'm dying
But I realized I'm the vermin I was reluctant to cure.
We always act oblivious to our rot.
She wonders who would love her aching bones,
And the smell and rot of her flesh,
But he showed her there's beauty in ashes.
True beauty lies in our souls.
She's silenced, in a shell of her former self
She's told to remain silent that her words are too sharp,
What if they can groom life itself...
Poetry is a writer's truth seen and expressed with passion.
At times we wonder why we aren't heard,
When we sing in silence...
Lines don't make poetry but the depth in those words.
I'm not broken
This is who I am now
I'm my own perfect
But he sees me as a broken toy
But still in love with the shattered fragments.
Brittle lady
She bleeds in silence
Her thoughts constantly screeching in her head
She's in pain
Is it just another life's test
Or she refuses to heal her wounds?
Pieces are what makes you whole
I find beauty in dark places
Love in mysterious ways
Comfort in unbelievable happenings
I'm not weird
I just pay attention to things others neglect.
Life isn't worth living if it's viewed in one perspective

— The End —