You feel like you're ripping at the seams.
You feel like all the scary stuff
That you hid
behind those shattered glass eyes
will spill endlessly onto the floor,
make you a laughing stock,
And
Be the reason you must become a recluse.
This my dear,
Is in fact,
Untrue.
Behind the seams
You are no monster to be cast,
in a closet,
Under the bed,
Under the stairs,
In the attic
Or
In some makeshift storage space.
No
No
Behind those seams
Is a beautiful mosaic
Of the beer bottles you've shattered
Of the mirrors you've cursed to shards
Of the glasses you've cast to the floor
Behind the seams is nothing to be hidden away.
You are art.
You are;
the most beautiful,
The most intricate
The most complex
The most awe inspiring
Piece ever put together.
Yes,
Blood was shed to get you here.
Sure,
Sometimes when I try and help
To place your glass
I get cut on your sharp edges.
I do not regret taking my blood
Mixing it with your love
And
Guiding you to decide
To decide to pull the fabric,
hiding your beauty,
away
I'll be here holding seam cutters
to hand you.
I'll save a spot
Atop the mountains
In every studio
On every city street
In every single home
To display your heart.
You may feel broken
You may feel shattered
You may feel that you're worthless
But in every piece of you
that you think is meaningless
I will show you
You don't need to be who you were
To be something beautiful.