Sometimes the hardest battles are fought alone at night when it's dark and quiet. I haven't even been typing for more than a few seconds and already the tears are flowing. Too strong for too long. That's what they say, right? Crying does not mean you're weak it means you have been too strong for too long. What *******. I am weak. I know I am. Broken angel hurt so many times by those who were meant to protect. Walls have been put up to protect myself since no one else seemed to care enough to save the five year old little girl. Eleven years later and I'm cold and hard as stone. I wish I were a stone.. Instead of this **** sponge who is destined to be poked and prodded. I will soak up your mess, so you don't have to suffer. Give me your worries, I will take them. Give me your addictions, I will take them. Give me your broken shards, I will take them. I don't care if I get cut and scraped. Let me bleed- so you can live.
Reading through this it makes no sense.. not even to me. But maybe that's how poetry is suppose to be.