I have made a mess of my soul.
It is calloused and ugly.
I have collected every heartbreak, every hurt.
I carry around my mother's trust issues, shackled to my ankles,
my father's tendency to fly off the handle
and regret.

The scars left behind by my past lovers are still aching
and I am small. I am an open wound.
My insides are spilling out; oh, what a mess I've made of my soul.
Nothing but an insecure girl, who once knew but now could not see; constantly looking for ways to remind herself of what she is not worth.

I am sorry that I ask why so often when you say that you love me.
It's just that, when you say it, my knees would shake with uncertainty,
my heart would ache with uncertainty
This isn't your fault. It's not that I don't trust you.
It's that I can't trust my heart enough to keep you.

I am sorry that this ruin of a soul is all I have to offer.
I know it is hard to love something so full of chaos,
please, I promise
I am trying my best to clean up the mess.

I need
nobody.
nobody, that is,
other than myself.

She is a mass of contradictions,
smooth curves and sharp tongue,
soft skin and hard thoughts,
happy mouth and sad eyes.
An alluring curiousity,
she travels with the freak show;
under constant scrutiny.
Beauty struggles under
harsh lighting,
grotesque truth
brought to the fore.
Free within a cage
To which you hold the key.
Redundant wings now used
To cover her face.

if you died tomorrow,
in a car crash
in a train accident
from food poisoning
from the snakes I sent last night, under my breath, nightmares fading in and out
you ancestors would smile, they really would, believe me -
and the world would be a lovely place to live in

I cannot force feeling from a stone
Nor make another heart beat
As beats the one I own
So I am left alone
To mourn the broken heart
That beats beneath my breast

the rain cleans the earth.
it purifies it
it renews it.

i wonder,
if i am under the rain,
will it cleanse me?
purify me?
renew me?
but that is just hopeful thinking.
the rain will only drench me.

the rain is selfish in the way that
the only thing it will clean
is itself.

we must be like the rain.
we must not try to purify others.
we must not try to renew others.
the only one who can cleanse us of our impurities,
is ourselves.