There's a beating
down in my heart
and painful butterflies
in my stomach.
I worry that this
could be the
Beginning
of a repeat.
You watch my shows like him.
You play guitar like him.
You are awkward like him.
You could hurt me like him.
This heart,
well it's not ready
for another time
where sleep is sweet relief.
I don't want to wake up
and see you tomorrow
because it could be
one step closer.
Don't be him-
that's my plea.
My heart cries out
"Not again."
Before you hurt me,
tell me when.
Don't let me blindly
fall in love.
So let me know
even if it hurts
and I'll walk away
new and broken.
When you get a new bruise
it hurts to be touched.
I have one on my heart
that I must protect.
Is this how it goes?
The heart gets wounded
so it pretends not to care
so it deflects any blows.
Because if nothing touches,
nothing can hurt.
And if nothing can hurt
then it might be all right.
Should I tell you now
all the scary truths?
That I'm messed up and broken
and may never be right.
I have scars upon my skin
that I am afraid for you to see.
Will you turn away?
Will I no longer be beautiful?
I have scars upon my soul
that I am afraid for you to know.
Will I be to broken?
Will I no longer be worth the trouble?
I've been bruised and battered
like an old castle door.
The ramparts have been different,
but always there.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
There's a beating
down in my heart
and painful butterflies
in my stomach.
I worry that this
could be the
Beginning
of a repeat.
You watch my shows like him.
You play guitar like him.
You are awkward like him.
You could hurt me like him.
This heart,
well it's not ready
for another time
where sleep is sweet relief.
I don't want to wake up
and see you tomorrow
because it could be
one step closer.
Don't be him-
that's my plea.
My heart cries out
"Not again."
Before you hurt me,
tell me when.
Don't let me blindly
fall in love.
So let me know
even if it hurts
and I'll walk away
new and broken.
When you get a new bruise
it hurts to be touched.
I have one on my heart
that I must protect.
Is this how it goes?
The heart gets wounded
so it pretends not to care
so it deflects any blows.
Because if nothing touches,
nothing can hurt.
And if nothing can hurt
then it might be all right.
Should I tell you now
all the scary truths?
That I'm messed up and broken
and may never be right.
I have scars upon my skin
that I am afraid for you to see.
Will you turn away?
Will I no longer be beautiful?
I have scars upon my soul
that I am afraid for you to know.
Will I be to broken?
Will I no longer be worth the trouble?
I've been bruised and battered
like an old castle door.
The ramparts have been different,
but always there.
