there is nothing beautiful
about the fading scars
that map out my pain
along my porcelain skin
or the way that sometimes
i forget how to breathe
because i’m shaking like a leaf
there is nothing pretty about the way that the tear stains
trace the emptiness in my heart
across my cheeks
like a watercolour
that you used to love
the way my eyes swell
and my temples throb
as i cry myself to sleep
once again
when the memories
become too much
there is nothing admirable
about the way that i hide
what i am feeling inside
if you could only see
the mess that my innards
have become
you would not say
that my flaws are beautiful
the cavern of my chest
is a garden ravaged by the weeds
of poisonous thoughts
that run through my veins
my mind is a warzone
the aftermath
of some nuclear disaster
the monsters that hide
behind my ribcage
and tear the life from my bones
they are not beautiful
so do not tell me
that my demons make me attractive
because that
is exactly what is killing me
i am not beautiful // m.p.
YOU ARE READING
With Broken Wings (2013)
Poetry"Take these broken wings and learn to fly again." This is my own personal story of overcoming my demons and my grief. I define my recovery. ι'ℓℓ вє уσυя ѕнσυℓ∂єя тσ cяу ση, уσυя яσcк ωнєη уσυ'яє ησт ѕтяσηg ι'ℓℓ вє уσυя нєαят ωнєη ιт'ѕ вяσкєη, му α...
