why is it hard for people to decipher a chaotic mess?
to sift through the pieces, and to figure out that all she wants to be is understood.
she's simple yet so complex a facade of happiness with a sort of sadness right below the surface the fact that she feels broken, and yet she seems complete
she's a walking paradox and she's a perfectly organized mess
but no one seems to notice as she unravels, because she's still just a chaotic mess
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hey hey so i've been rather sad lately and so poetry has been flowing through my veins and i've been composing in my mind so i may start posting rather frequently but no promises
