You wanted to fix me. You wanted to mold my skin into shapes that you preferred. You wanted to make me look new and shiny. You buffed out my skin and made it paper thin, so you could see the ice in my veins, and the rage in my heart. You wanted to fix me. But how can you fix something that wasn’t broken in the first place? You have to break something in order to fix it. So that’s what you did. You smashed my self esteem and killed my smile. Took out my joy and replaced it with nothing. Left me with little holes that couldn’t be filled. All because you saw something that needed to be fixed. But now you're gone and I’m broken. You need to fix me.
Fix Me
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When you label someone you put them in a box.
A child has to be innocent, a woman has to be perfect, a man has to be strong. All these labels that we have for everything and anything. -
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People have always told me that I’m perfect. I’m this shiny object that doesn’t have an imperfection in sight. But people don’t know that nobody is perfect, and that even seemingly perfect people have cracks. -
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