My fingers falter
As I decide on the words
That will adequately describe my heart.
When all I can remember is broken
And all my love has scared
I fear it was broken from the start.
The pieces that remain
I strain to hold onto
I fear they no longer fit.
The fire that once
Held strong in my belly
Holds flames barely lit.
The happiness that once
Shined behind my eyes
Has dulled to a shadow.
My battle scars lining my wrist
And decorating my thighs
From the fights from below.
The darkness remains
Lingering in my deepest part
Threatening to take hold.
But the light triumphs
Over everything
Always daring to be BOLD.
I may be broken
And constantly be in battle
With myself and the world.
But I will not back down
As the words trapped inside
My heart become unfurled.
My fingers slide easily
Over the keys
The truth more comfortable.
When speaking my heart remains
But when coaxed to be written
Out my words will tumble.
Writing is a beautiful thing
And a tool
I will always hold dear.
Because no matter how long I stare
Or what words I say
I will never see beautiful in the mirror.
But I can make beauty
With my words.
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