As red falls, I can’t help but cry for days.
The five stages, a sign of hope, seems fake.
How can you be happy when all decays?
When you want the world to just take a break?
The mirror is opposite from a scam,
It shows just how much I should hate my form.
Scars in my heart show how broken I am,
And just how much my repair can’t conform.
Despite this, you see true beauty in me.
You accept my self hatred and aching.
In your arms and presence, I feel homely.
Your words help me awake in the morning.
“The butterfly does not know its own wings,”
“But others can see what its beauty brings.”