Broken Toy

I don’t understand why the seasons have to change
I don’t understand why I was born with freckles and brown hair
I don't understand why my mom left my dad, or my dad left my mom, I'm not even sure 
I don’t understand how I so easily place my happiness in the palms of strange boys with smooth words and dreamy eyes
I don’t understand how I am content with vodka giving me more feels than my mothers love
I don't understand why I cut my wrists
I don’t understand why it’s beautiful to see a woman’s bones but not her curves
I don’t understand how no matter how many notebooks I fill with poetry I can’t cure my sadness
I don’t understand why I allow boys, who won’t even make eye contact with me when I pass by, use my body for their pleasure.
I don’t understand why they call it making love when the only thing made from it is my sorrow
I don't fucking understand why I can't hate you
I don’t understand how one human being in a world of 7 billion could make me want to leave
I don't understand why my tears are stinging 
I don't even understand why I'm crying 
I don’t understand how you were the one to finally say you’ve had enough
but I do understand that you're never going to love me just as a child is not going to love a broken toy

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