Damaged
Sometimes I wonder
Why my skin isn't
Rubbed raw,
Blistering.
Why I'm not
Openly bleeding,
From all my ugly wounds.
Why I haven't been
Torn apart,
Limb from limb,
How I am still standing.
When on the inside,
I feel so
Raw,
Broken,
Damaged.
But all I get on the outside
Are these
Worthless,
Salty
Tears.
