the broken girl's poem

There was once a girl.


Her love for others

was stronger than

the love for herself.


She loved to make drawings

the ink was red,

the paper soaked.


But no one saw.


She hid away,

deep into the night.


She convinced herself

that no one cared,

even when they did.


She pushed them away,

not wanting them to get hurt.


When someone saw

the drawings she made,

she knew to stop.


She didn't know how,

so she hid them better,

changing hiding locations,

making them smaller.


She held her love

for others

too high above

the love for herself.


To her,

her body was worthless,

her soul was gone,

and inside,

she felt dead.


They told her,


"Be happy."


"Smile more."


and to "love herself"


But she couldn't,

for every time,

she looked in a mirror,

she didn't see herself staring back.


She saw a broken smile,

with puffy eyes

and pale skin

and messy hair.


This wasn't her.


It never had been.


Her true self was gone.


All that was left,

was an empty shell,

just trying to survive. 

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