The Stories of My Heart

I'm Not Beautiful

I'm not beautiful, pretty or even good looking. All my pictures are touched up.

On the inside I'm just a girl trying to survive using her eyes to hide the fact she cried her self to sleep at night.

I'm just another soul. Who was lost, broken, beaten, lifted up, pushed down, dropped, forgotten, left.

With who will save me? Someone who just happens to walk by?

When they want to get to know me then find out who I am, run away as fast as they ran to catch me.

I've Lerned how to always land on my feet now. Like a cat. Work all day. Cry all night. Even in my sleep.

Waiting. Wishing for the man in my head who's made of a question mark to take me away..

Away from the darkness I travel around inside looking for a dimmed light. But they turned off their flashlight.

I fall. Unable to continue my endless hopeless painful dream. Craving his touch but to learn its just a myth.

What I felt before was my mind pretexting me, from me. Walks down a certian hall to see if she can "accedently" run into him.

She creates physical pain to herself where she knows no one will dear to look. To numb the emotional pain she feels.