I, Myself

You could say I was entirely whole.

You could say that I stood alone.

I, myself, would never give you the satisfaction of knowing that I was wounded.

In the eyes of others, a happy soul,

In the hearts of others, a bleeding soul.

Despite the continuous amounts of varying pains,

I still rise.

I, myself, carrying those words upon my shoulders.

Bearing the weight of those who cannot go on alone.

Absorbing everything in my path.

I, myself, with the weakening strength within,

Try so desperately to heal the wounds of others,

So that in a perfect world which we cannot see,

The chaos is gone.

I, myself, never once tending to my own bleeding scars,

Try so hard to prevent those with such beauty,

Such soft, warm, vibrant souls from enduring what our shelters are supposed to shield.

I, myself, would undoubtedly kiss the pained flesh if it meant a better life.

If it meant futures could be saved.

Inner conflicts know no match with what I see.

When everything around me is crumbling and churning at the sides.

I, myself, am the savior of hurt souls.

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