You seem to hurt my heart,
Repetitively,
and the doctors say:
"They can’t bandage a word broken heart,"
"When the bandage won’t be able to fix me,"
This is when my body mutates,
Making it hard to breath ,
Or really do anything,
This is when,
My ribs,
wrap around my heart,
trying to protect it from you,
and while my lungs were unprotected,
and I was at a lack of breath,
you seemed to take that,
with any happiness you could find,
And I sat there,
Shaking,
Then,
Crying because it’s not even first period
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
You seem to hurt my heart,
Repetitively,
and the doctors say:
"They can’t bandage a word broken heart,"
"When the bandage won’t be able to fix me,"
This is when my body mutates,
Making it hard to breath ,
Or really do anything,
This is when,
My ribs,
wrap around my heart,
trying to protect it from you,
and while my lungs were unprotected,
and I was at a lack of breath,
you seemed to take that,
with any happiness you could find,
And I sat there,
Shaking,
Then,
Crying because it’s not even first period
what it feels like to have one, mine are because of my PTSD triggers
