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i don't write
to please anyone
i don't write
for attention
i don't write
for compliments
i don't write
to make anyone fall in love with me

i write
because i feel
i write
because i need to
i write
because my mind is too loud
i write
because my mouth is too quiet
We build our own cages.
We construct fences around our souls.
We scribble on the walls.
We believe this makes us free.

The world can terrify.
But there is nothing worse
than not experiencing life
for the fear of hurting.
I hate the term
Tragically beautiful.
If you find something beautiful about my face
or me as a person,
Say it.
Just say it
Quit using that dumb term
it's as good as romanticising self harm and depression.
I will try to help you through your recovery
But I won't kiss your scars.
I will lose my mind when I realise that you are hurting yourself.
There is nothing Tragically beautiful about depressed humans
or humans who are just having a hard time.
If something about that human is tragically beautiful,
try making 'em happy.
Make 'em laugh.
See through them.
and you might find some *real beauty
Why do we ask ourself
''Do we believe in love? ''
When the better question is
"Does love believe in us? "...
Thinking is a great source of everything you're trying to avoid.
'                                              You Can always tell
                                            When His heart is going astray.
                                        You'll losE his compassion when he talks.
                                 You'll notice A hint of guilt in his walk.
                                        The time Together will feel hallow.
                       Your gut will start Eting away at your thoughts.
                       Maybe it's just youR self consciousness showing through.
It's hard to believe that when he Stops replying "I love you".
*-dh
She was broken
And she acknowledged it.

But what does that mean?
A broken human is surely different
From a broken toy.

You cannot replace the batteries
Or superglue the cracks.

What does it mean to be broken?
It means to be human.
And not quite fixable.
This feels unfinished. Or unfixable.
Veterans of war show off their scars
Telling their frightening tales of battle
The say " right here, in this very spot
Is where the age old bullet was shot"

But what about the others
The girls with troubling pasts
That haunt their every hour
They sit in the corner clad in black their expressions turned sour

And when the pieces of themselves
Come some what back together
Like the veterans they have scars
Only its from their emotional wars

To the eye their perfect plain and pretty
Another person in the crowd
Another nameless happy soul
No sees, no one helps, there is no one to console

Alone they fight their treacherous battle
Friendships lost, loved ones gone
And when it's done the world goes on
To as if nothing was ever wrong

And if that one is found alone
Crying in the corner
They all question what's the matter
Since scarless is her stature

No one questions
No one helps
She has nothing physical to show
Yet there are scars, only emotional, you know

No bandaid can fix the heart break
And the world doesn't know how
To unchain her from the repeating past
And forever it seems this will last
Please comment, I would really love to hear what you have to say about my poem or any interpretation you might have
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