Maybe this is my life.
Maybe all this pain
and heartache
and depression
is a part of who I am.
Maybe I am the dark clouds
that still allow the light to show through them.
I am alive so that I may
show others that there is a shed of
light even in the darkest rooms.
My heart is filled with holes
and my mind and body are
a canvas of scars.
But maybe that's who I am destined to be;
a lesson in survival.
I am proof that the injured are brave
and that the broken can seem whole.
I am 2 am and the fear
you have of loving.
But I am also the sweet
and the beautiful;
I am the delicately broken
and the permanently fragile.
So when I extend my arms
or form words with my mouth,
they are not for the demons.
They are for the losing team,
the insomniacs,
the heartbroken,
the lonely,
the scared,
the ones who wish they could forget.
I am your Aesop's fable telling you
that survival is real
and that it is worth it.
Take it from a butterfly heart
that never stopped beating,
even after its wings were clipped.