Tuesday, 23 July 2013
06:13:02 AM (GMT)
The pain that causes red to run down my arm is permanent. It can never be forgotten.
The scars that are left there are reminders that I have lost the battle, and possibly
slowly losing the war with myself. I don't know who I am anymore because of my past.
The growl from my stomach is the cry of hunger, wanting to be thin. The makeup on my
face is just a facade, of my wanting to be pretty. The bruises on my body are from
the hits I've taken from you. The puffy eyes are from crying myself to sleep at night
from all the memories that are never going to leave. Sometimes I wonder, will God
take me away from this ugly world? Will anyone be happy that I'm gone? Will anyone
Red doesn't run anymore. The scars remain, with a butterfly on top of them. Still
fighting this war. Slowly finding myself. No more growling. No more makeup. The
bruises have faded. No more crying myself to sleep at night. Sometimes I wonder, will
God take me away from this ugly world? Will anyone be happy that I'm gone? Will
anyone miss me?