I am young, yes, but only by number. My soul is aged by years of pain and grief. My heart is toughened by the numerous times it has been ripped out and torn apart. But what didn't kill me, never made me very much stronger either. The seams of me have not grown stronger, they've more like loosened so it's harder for them to keep the pieces of me together, and more difficult to sew them together once more.
But I am young.
Maybe that's the worst part.
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PoetryA collection of drabbles, unfiltered and straight from the heart, that doesn't belong anywhere but here.
