i am often asked
why i don't like
talking to people
about my troublesabout the faults
in my skin and
the cracks in my
heart— my fears
and my phobias
and my crippling
anxieties and all
of the endless
things that tear
up my fragile soulwell— sometimes,
i feel as though
just the sight of all
my broken pieces
can tear others
apart and i fear
that they'll be so
caught up in all
the shards of
glass that they
won't even realise
they're being cut
up themselvesbecause once, i
too, had mistaken
someone's broken
glass for a lovely
sea of stars1 8 / 0 9 / 2 0 1 8
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𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒
Poetry❝ 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀. ❞ 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗴𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗼𝗿 🔌🔥 ∗ ∵ • ° ⋅ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗇 2018 ©