trying, to be

"Beauty comes from the inside," I've always been told.

And as I grew up, I've gotten uglier and uglier.
You've told me so many times, I know it now.
It's engraved behind every reflection I look into. And if I stare hard enough, I can see those cracks too. The ones I've filled in with makeup and confidence.

So if I used to be,
maybe I've been hoping to find that buried underneath my skin, deep inside the veins carrying my evil, and even deeper still.

And everytime that feeling hits,
and your words tug my fingers toward anything that will tear me open wide enough for the evil and poison inside me, to just, spill out,
I want to keep running away from myself.
Just so that I won't feel like I have to tear myself apart to find something I'm sure I used to have.

Because today, and all those other days that I find that I can still breathe,
that's all that I want to be.


Beautiful.