What Kind Of Creature...

Here is the thing...

my mirror shows me things you cannot see

you can't see the doubt that never being enough has 

sewn into my ears so deep i can hardly know where it began.

the long scar dug into me

by searching for love in minefields and then

wondering why ive been blown apart

the purple bruising left by mighty rivers of tears and blood-

tearing down my cheeks

flooding my hands and soul

tears soaking the sheets and endless pages

and every prayer i can force myself to howl

from my pitted stomach and aching existence of pain.

you can't see my gaping chest or where my heart used to be, 

if i ever had one in the first place.

But like Frankenstein's monster i am 

gruesomely stitched together with bits and pieces 

of what was left my own life and the lives of others.

only i know the waking death

that has been the price of my survival.

So, when i tell you i am not handsome, desirable, beautiful or any other word you find,

You just have to trust me...