If looks could kill, I'd be shattered into a million pieces. I may not be completely broken, but I feel cracked inside. I keep leaking until there's nothing left, and no one seems to notice the tears flowing from my heart. In a world full of broken bodies, who cares about my cracked heart, mind, and soul? On the surface, I try to appear calm, but I know I fail miserably. Wait until you see the scars left by the wounds where I was stitched back together. Sometimes they strain and tear, and I wonder who I can turn to for help. Who will mend these tiny pieces of my heart? I pray for someone to guide me towards the light and away from the darkness. Lately, my life has been a mess of tears, brokenness, fear, and uncertainty. I question if I'm making the right choices or if there even is such a thing as "right." Everything feels blurry, and I can't help but wonder when the next disaster will strike. I wake up, look in the mirror, and ask myself if this is the person I planned to be. I have to make a decision: either get up and move towards a more organized and controlled life or surrender to the darkness and let life control me. The answer lies within me, reflected back in the mirror. It's all up to me, and I find myself asking the devil for a promise.
