I wear my wounds like designer threads,
Silk stitched with the words I never said.
Smiles? Yeah, I’ve got a few to lend—
But they’re cracked glass dressed as friend.
My trust comes wrapped in barbed wire,
Touch it once, and you’ll feel the fire.
I’ve hugged with arms that wanted to scream,
I’ve kissed with lips that killed a dream.
I don’t break down—I burn slow,
An art of ruin that most don’t know.
So if you stay, bring bandages and rage,
I’m not a girl I’m a goddamn stage.
They cheer, they run, they point and flee,
But no one stays to truly see.
They taste the chaos, then they choke—
Calling me “too much” like it’s a joke.
But darling you, you wanted the truth,
So here’s your gift wrapped in brutal youth:
I don’t fear demons I give them names,
And tuck them in with lullaby flames.
