maybe it all winds up
to me being unloveable,
to my rotten core;
maybe i beg to be put
in a discarded pile, never
anyone's first choice

maybe my eyes mirror a wish
to be hurt, to be twisted, to be used;
maybe my lips whisper
that i may never truly belong
to this world

and when my bones turn into ash,
when i'm no longer here
but flowers bloom
from the traces of my soul
on a muddy ground, with tiny
bugs, dancing across wet leaves
birds chirping, sun shining,
will i ever be enough?
will someone glimpse at
my earthly remains, and think
to themselves:
"what a gorgeous blossom,
this plant has!"

and when you look me in my eyes,
do you see me for who i am?
are these friendships and loves
all going to pass me by,
leave me to die alone?

am i no-one's first choice?

were so many friendships
unwillingly from my side
written through a lens, that means
to morph me and sick fantasies?
am i just a creature of
****** nature, with no respect
to my interests, my art and
my thoughts?
am i too complex to digest?

or is my taste just that bitter?

oh, but how
foolishly easily do i love
and fall for colourful eyes;
yet how foolishly quick
do i ruin it,
and watch the flames engulf
everything that could've
gone right

everything that could've
gone right,
will it all fall down?
am i building this
just to close myself
in my early tomb?

if everything else fails,
could i ever stop myself
from loving again?

am i just waiting,
like a loyal dog,
gnawing at any bones you throw
wagging my tail at what you say,
am i just waiting,
just to be hurt again?

please,
i opened my heart
and everything pours out
please,
do not let it
spill out.

please,
do not let me
be hurt again.