I put myself back together with tape and glue. The only tape I could find is that crappy tape that only sticks for a few minutes. I made myself a fake smile with construction paper.
It rained the glue dripped off, the tape peeled off, and the paper smile fell apart.
My fragile pieces broke apart as I lay on my floor crying the pain out once again.
I always put on a facade so no body would ask what's wrong.
Most times I can't even put into words what I'm feeling.
I hate it when other people are upset.
I hate it that other people can never tell when I'm upset.
My soul is sheathed in spider webs and the spiders bite away at the thoughts that might make the sorrow fade.
YOU ARE READING
The broken
PoetryThe stinging burn of the water from my fresh cuts. The hot salty liquid streaming down my red hot cheeks. The times I am in so much pain that I can't even cry anymore.
