I can't recall the pain,
Nor the sounds that came from with in,
But what I do recall is the tears.
Their sting.
One as sharp as a bee's sting but it lingers much longer.
I can dry them but in the end I could still feel their heat.
Still this isn't me,
Not anymore at least.
Perhaps it was the break.
The way my heart shattered.
So many bits,
And not enough time to rebuild correctly.
Yet this is me.
In my most damaged state.
Please don't touch.
The bruises are too much to handle now.
I can't lie anymore,
And the fake smiles are starting to fail.
We're both broken!
And yet you wear the crown covered in gems that thieves lust after!
And me,
The thorns of my crown seem to remind me of what I have given up.
But that was long ago.
When I was young and fragile.
You can call me cruel,
But in truth the tones of grey have grown on me.
Like a phantom limb.
I speak in morbid tones and those around me laugh in fear.
Fear of a punishment that is never coming.
Those that try to press pain into the sensitive parts of me find said fury.
Though so few know how to reach it.
This is me.
In my twisted glory.
So bow down,
Because I wear the crown you once did.
No longer do I roll in the shards of broken hearts you've collected in your years.
Stop looking for hidden meanings in the words I speak,
Because there are none for you!
This is me.
Between then and now.
I may be broken,
But so are you.
The difference is simple.
I can live with my faults.
Can you?
