Tears well at the thought of exposure,
And time doesn’t heal what’s been taken from her.
They never mattered, the scars that dwell in her heart,
Until a time when puppets played her broken part.
From that dreaded hour she was a shell;
All love and warmth was sent straight to hell.
She was left to find her own, patches and glue;
She was left to do one thing: forget about you.
– Brittany Rose