You broke me three years ago and I didn't know how I wouldn't make it out alive but I did
I found a way
Little did I know that all this time you've helped my by breaking me and giving me all these little tools
Songs
Bands
Rings
Necklaces
Beanies
Words in poems and songs
Everything really but anonymously
And I hid it from everyone and even myself
You broke me
And didn't fix me
But now with all the shattered pieces I left behind
I'm going back
Picking them up
And using them to fill it all up again
They want a complacent, quiet, timid, weak, shy, little girl
That's not me anymore
Not since you broke me
And recently? Definitely not.
And they hate it
They hate I have a voice
Who I am
What I do
And have done
And what I will do
What I say
How I act
But they hate cause it's not the porcelain doll they want
I'm free and I don't care anymore
Go ahead and yell and try to break and crack me open again
I'll be perfectly fine
I have stainless steal under this porcelain facade
Thankyou
Asshat
YOU ARE READING
Vents : In A Book.
Non-FictionIts a book. Full of vents. It probably wont really make much sense but it'll be like quotes or sometimes poems. Whatever mood I am in. Its supposed to help me feel better... Idk why. I'm usually in a bad or sad mood so yeah... But this will be from...
