Every scar has its own story.
Just like how every night has its dawn.
Life can be a box of roses,
But every rose has its thorn.
Maybe you understand this.
Maybe you don't,
But that's okay.
It's hard to see
When you're blinded by the lies that you believe abut me.
You don't get it, do you?
You don't get the pain I feel.
You don't get the emptiness.
You don't get why I do what I do.
You don't get who I am,
Which justs makes it even worse.
And makes me want to do it more.
You think this is for attention.
You think this is because someone else does it.
You think this is selfish.
You think I'm better off than you are.
Well, you're fucking wrong.
Don't judge what I do,
And who i am!
Because you will never understand.
So why even try?
© Copyright 2016 briannaheath. All rights reserved.
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