I am the beautifully broken one.

Fractured by the friction of family.

Ransacked by the ruination of rape.

Defined by the darkness of degregation. 

Shamed by the sins of many selfish men. 

And I wonder - Oh how I do wonder -

Will this heart ever be made whole again?

 

Will I ever know the joy of color?

Will I ever know anything to be -

to be full of truth and beaty and love?

Will I ever know anything to be -

free from all trouble and destitution 

And I wonder - Oh how I do wonder -

Will this heart ever know what love really is?

 

Will it ever know a day free from chains?

A day where the skies are perfectly blue?

Where the wind blows scents of life and love?

A day where you are there and I feel safe?

A day where for once a man's hands didn't hurt?

And I wonder - Oh how I do wonder -

Since when did man's love feel this safe and pure?

 

I feel something moving, something stiring.

It feels like a hammer inside my chest. 

I can't decide which one hurts me the most.

Being dead or alive? Whole or broken?

Learning to love or to be loved yourself?

And I wonder - Oh how I do wonder -

Is it true? I can be alive in death? 

 

Every part of my small heart torn apart,

Every bone bruised by the blows of control,

but healed by kindess of genuine love. 

Healed by a smile and a gentle hand. 

Healed by the true words "This is not your shame."

"He is the one who should be this ashamed." 

And I wonder - Oh how I do wonder -

 

Am I the beautifully broken one?