I listen to his lies because I need his voice. I accept his broken love because it’s the best my broken heart can get, even if it is just left over pieces of a shinier me, dulled down by lies and deceptions
I am pounded together by clay that someone left in the rain, a voodoo doll with pins and needles in its side, ripping the stitches out.
I am the rotting house that is filled with old memories and haunted spirits. I am my fathers voice, my mothers heart, and society’s insecurities of what love is supposed to feel like.
I am a mess that accepts those standards because without it, the walls shake. Without it, the voices get louder, making me crumble. Soon I realize I am nothing but ash