My head is a broken record,
My heart is a novel of fear and hopelessness,
My skin is a secret little scarred canvas.

I am judged through what is seen
On the surface of my body
In result of the mess in my head
And the bleeding wounds in my heart.

To others, this is what I’m defined by,
My weaknesses and instabilities.
And I can’t explain myself nor the
War that is engraved on my skin,
For my distressed heart is in terror
Of being left alone and misunderstood
Once again..