I don't think you realize how many times I've been hurt.
Really hurt.
Like the first scrape of summer,
when you fall off your bike.
Until you've done it so much,
you feel numb.
You know the pain is still there.
You don't want to know though.
Toughing it out takes time.
There's no band-aid for the blood shed.
And no one to kiss it and make it better,
because it's not supposed to hurt anymore.
So you stand up the next time you fall,
bruised
torn
broken.
For everyone to see.
But can you really have bravery,
for ignoring the pain?
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
I don't think you realize how many times I've been hurt.
Really hurt.
Like the first scrape of summer,
when you fall off your bike.
Until you've done it so much,
you feel numb.
You know the pain is still there.
You don't want to know though.
Toughing it out takes time.
There's no band-aid for the blood shed.
And no one to kiss it and make it better,
because it's not supposed to hurt anymore.
So you stand up the next time you fall,
bruised
torn
broken.
For everyone to see.
But can you really have bravery,
for ignoring the pain?
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