She walks around broken to the bone
with a soul that’s been damaged
by the actions of the people she held close; a painful lesson she learnt by habit.
Leaves her heart on her sleeve for no one
because she no longer believes in the magic of being wanted;
like a genie in a bottle that got broken
when the wishes stopped being honest
empty of love. empty of trust. with no hope of healing.
and the scars underneath her sleeves. remain a secret to the general public.
Tired of receiving love dressed in destruction
She chooses to make peace with the same demons
that keep her hostage in her own mind. that she constantly gets lost in
so every day when she wakes up in the morning
She swallows her own solitude like her blue pills in order to function
Ignoring the truth inside. and all her symptoms
She still remembers to wear her smile
like a self-made remedy born out of tradition
Whenever the world has its eyes on her.
she doesn’t speak her mind anymore
because nobody really listens
no one understands the pain she feels
because it doesn’t fit their description
so she walks around broken to the bone
alive, but not really living
but what nobody ever told her;
it is not her job. to be the perfect victim.
©Eunique, first published in ‘to grow in two bodies’.
Eunique is a writer on his best days and a poet on his worst ones. He is an avid overthinker with a knack for painting pictures with words.