I could write about how the stars would align or be put to shame whenever you smile with your eyes but that would be lying and cliché,
the truth is,I see you just as the same as everyone else,bones and delicate flesh in the shape of what I could perceive
you are as lost and as scarred as everyone else,forever hurting, growing and healing
to romanticize your pain and glorify your flaws would be a sin
but yet again, I am a novel of sins and unspeakable things;I am my mother's disappointment and my father's mistake
I am my brother's curse,I am my sister's cruel fate
I am everything that is to be cursed and loathed and I could care less about being convicted
And I would shamelessly plead guilty as she turns you into yet another sob story, another prose piece
Or not