I’ve got issues

And filled up tissues

That bear the tears

I’ve cried over the years

Covering the scars that form upon my skin,

But I’m not broken.

There are mascara marks on pillows

And memories of shattered windows;

Stains on my childhood

And innocence stolen through blood.

My father’s type is B positive.

I must’ve missed that gene

Or else I wouldn’t be standing here

Trying to figure out where everything went negative.

Wrong turns

And the past burns,

But if they’re burns from the past,

Why are they here with me,

Holding flames to my untarnished remnants to ensure their marks last?

They’ve gotten their point across

But still the burns remain as if to remind me of the loss.

I’m not sure of what, because I had nothing to lose.

I would like for them to try walking in my shoes

Just for a day, covering all the miles and barriers I’ve overcome.

They’ve no right to judge, because they would fall to the ground on step one.

It feels as if I live my life on trial.

No matter what I do, I’m questioned all the while.

My answers don’t suffice,

Even if they’re honest,

So, in chains I pay the price.

Tagged with tight-stringed labels,

I walk on cables

As if leaning either way will lead to my descent,

And to avoid falling, the request for perfection must be met.

I cannot possibly see myself as others want me to be.

I will not conform to anyone’s standards for normality.

I won’t be someone I cannot stand to be around,

Shattered upon my skin, the tarnished scars have left creases,

But I’m not broken.

Last time I checked,

I had all my pieces.



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