But I'm not a disaster,
I might be a withering flower
And dying out of air
Begging for you to let me go
Trying to choke my own lungs.

Maybe, I'll cry myself to sleep again tonight,
Or put on a nice dress just to see
If it could bring myself back to the life
I wanted.

Scared, lonely
Bitter and broken.

Screaming..

But I know that
Every tears I've dropped,
Every words I've said,
Every whisper I've spoken,
And every mistakes I've done,
They do not describe me; not at all.

So, I might be missing some parts of myself
But I know,
I am not a disaster.