Nights spent pulling away pieces of my skin remind me of trimming fabric from unwanted articals of clothing
My exterior does not define me
But I despise what's underneath
Maybe if I peel back far enough
And glare at the bare contents of my being
I'll see something worth saving
Thrifting, and scrapbooking my flaws
I do not enjoy this
I do not want to be this
These torn up jeans
This torn up soul
So I scratch off the scabs from every wound
Reopening my problems, exposing them to my ever changing mind
This scar stings my eyes the way the sun used to when I was a child
This scar has been there since I was a child
I believe that thought is called an epiphany
But I never wanted to realize these things about myself
So I throw them out
Leaving me hollow
Maybe something or someone can fill the cavity I myself carved from my chest
Maybe nothing and no one ever will
It's hard to tell
I feel nothing
I am nothing
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 4:03 AM UTC
Nights spent pulling away pieces of my skin remind me of trimming fabric from unwanted articals of clothing
My exterior does not define me
But I despise what's underneath
Maybe if I peel back far enough
And glare at the bare contents of my being
I'll see something worth saving
Thrifting, and scrapbooking my flaws
I do not enjoy this
I do not want to be this
These torn up jeans
This torn up soul
So I scratch off the scabs from every wound
Reopening my problems, exposing them to my ever changing mind
This scar stings my eyes the way the sun used to when I was a child
This scar has been there since I was a child
I believe that thought is called an epiphany
But I never wanted to realize these things about myself
So I throw them out
Leaving me hollow
Maybe something or someone can fill the cavity I myself carved from my chest
Maybe nothing and no one ever will
It's hard to tell
I feel nothing
I am nothing
