Dec 2016
I was a beautiful sculpture, you were the artist who tried to fix me but broke me instead. I was a painting, you the curious kid who touched me before I was dry. you ruined me. you smeared me. I was a plant growing, finding my place and you cut me down. Everything I grew again you cut me down to remind me that you control me.
it's been 3 years and you still control me. sometimes I'm outside with my dog or my sister or my nephews or myself. sometimes I'm outside and I'm so scared that you'll walk down my street again. you walked down my street the other day. my heart **** near fell out of my chest. I was scared and I wanted to yell at you and demand to know why me. I was only 14. for 14 years my mom kept me safe. I was wrapped in bubble wrap but you popped it all and touched me. I was a balloon, seeing the bright of the world, the beautiful bright positive world. you were a needle and with one touch I fell back to the ground and I saw only dark. I wanted to be in the ground. I wanted to be the dark.
No one wants a broken balloon,no one wants a smudged painting, or a dying plant or a statue that is falling apart. no one wants the broken one.... I'm not the broken one. I'm the balloon covered in tape. my air still leaks when I'm touched but I just blow myself back up and retape my edges. I used new colors and I created a new painting from what I had. I still have smudges but *******, just look at those colors. I'm no longer a dying plant, I'm just proving that I can grow from nothing. Watch me grow. I may be a broken statue but now I have character. my pieces formed a new statue. this statue is stronger.
you are not an artist but a critic. you said no one but you could love my flaws. my flaws are the best things about me. these make me everything you never liked about me and let me tell you, I found more bubble wrap.
I still want to know why me but I've realized you have no reason. people like you never do. but don't worry about me, one day I'll be in a museum I just have some more work to do. I just need to spend some more time on myself. you will see me in a museum and say "look any my hands, I hold those colors" No, your hands will hold faded dark colors and I will be bright. your hands will hold the wrong pieces, you do not fit in the puzzle I call my life. one day I will not have any pieces missing but right now I do and I've learned that's okay. I'm okay.
everything is okay. everything will be okay. go wash your hands, don't touch the statue, leave the plants alone, put the needle away. my art does not need you to fix it. I am my own artist.
it's been 3 years and you still control me. sometimes I'm outside with my dog or my sister or my nephews or myself. sometimes I'm outside and I'm so scared that you'll walk down my street again. you walked down my street the other day. my heart **** near fell out of my chest. I was scared and I wanted to yell at you and demand to know why me. I was only 14. for 14 years my mom kept me safe. I was wrapped in bubble wrap but you popped it all and touched me. I was a balloon, seeing the bright of the world, the beautiful bright positive world. you were a needle and with one touch I fell back to the ground and I saw only dark. I wanted to be in the ground. I wanted to be the dark.
No one wants a broken balloon,no one wants a smudged painting, or a dying plant or a statue that is falling apart. no one wants the broken one.... I'm not the broken one. I'm the balloon covered in tape. my air still leaks when I'm touched but I just blow myself back up and retape my edges. I used new colors and I created a new painting from what I had. I still have smudges but *******, just look at those colors. I'm no longer a dying plant, I'm just proving that I can grow from nothing. Watch me grow. I may be a broken statue but now I have character. my pieces formed a new statue. this statue is stronger.
you are not an artist but a critic. you said no one but you could love my flaws. my flaws are the best things about me. these make me everything you never liked about me and let me tell you, I found more bubble wrap.
I still want to know why me but I've realized you have no reason. people like you never do. but don't worry about me, one day I'll be in a museum I just have some more work to do. I just need to spend some more time on myself. you will see me in a museum and say "look any my hands, I hold those colors" No, your hands will hold faded dark colors and I will be bright. your hands will hold the wrong pieces, you do not fit in the puzzle I call my life. one day I will not have any pieces missing but right now I do and I've learned that's okay. I'm okay.
everything is okay. everything will be okay. go wash your hands, don't touch the statue, leave the plants alone, put the needle away. my art does not need you to fix it. I am my own artist.
