Roses wilt,
Loose their scent,
Butterflies die.
Bees got lost in search of roses
Greenfields lost their beauty,
in search of butterflies.
Dead roses and ashes remains
What if my heart stops
In search of you
What if i lose myself ?

you wish you were invisible sometimes
to hide the scars and bruises on your neck,
'cause once you have been seen you can't go back
to being just a gap between the lines
of someone else's story,
of someone else's life.
now your disguise is too thin to protect,
now you've been noticed, captured by a net that keeps you still.
you wonder when they're going for the ****,
you're counting moments,
but they keep on slipping through the wires,
you wish you were invisible sometimes.

notches on the bedpost
i'd rather count the freckles on your skin
i do not have a bedframe, an empty plaque
but i have my little scrawls of whim
and the tumbling scars on my back,
a rather pallid mosaic
of the sheer audacity of living
but please, count them until daybreak?

my scars
should I be ashamed of them
the answer isn't clear
but what I know is
that I find them beautiful
they may not have came from beauty
but they grew to be

the scars erupted from pain and misery
I was searching for an escape
an outlet for my despair
I found it in blades

they marred my skin
but I love them so
I don't want to be judged for them
but I find beauty in the pain

Things fall apart,
Breaking into slits and scars.
You miss the way it used to me,
You miss the feeling of you and me.
It's hard not to imagine how it used to be,
To stop the memories you can drink or die.

I will never
hide
my story.
perhaps
a warning,
or a precaution of what not
to do.
but frankly,
I wouldn’t change much.
It really did make me stronger.
allowed me more empathy,
let me see
into a little
bit of horror
others go through.

don’t you dare
judge scars,
be grateful
you’ve been
trusted
with their
story.

Scars fading away,
Along with the memories
Of the hurt and decay,
The endless stories,
Coming back fresh,
Regaining their life on paper,
Carving into the flesh,
Disappearing later.

They say time heal all wounds
And though that may be true
For the majority of scenarios
It’s not an irrefutable fact

For our childhood scratches
May be a fleeting kind of pain
Yet there are some scars that life
Engraves deep within our soul

Like a bullet whose trajectory
Missed my heart by a few inches
But hit a far more damaging target
My very last bit of innocence

Now, when I look into the mirror
Every broken bone lost its meaning
And the echoes of who I once was
Are all that remains to be seen