I am not broken

 

Just got a little chip

 

Like that cup from beauty and the beast

 

I still think feel and breathe

 

I can still do my job

 

Just not the same way as everyone else

 

And sometimes I notice it

 

The difference between me and you

 

My mind goes through how it got there

 

And I am stuck in my bed

 

Not wanting to get up

 

Not knowing how to get up

 

Forcing my feet to just take me

 

Walk me away from this nightmare

 

But sometimes the nightmare

 

is me

 

Creating my own cracks and chips

 

Becoming the thing that hurts me the most

 

And points out imperfections

 

That may not even be there

 

I read once that

 

People’s good qualities are on their backs

 

That is why we can’t see them

 

But I feel like mine have been ripped off

 

Stolen by someone who claimed to love me

 

Who made me think that I was broken

 

And I am just starting to get my signs back

 

Break out my pens and crayons

 

I am trying to make my own

 

Bring back the color that was there

 

Bring back the things before the break

 

So I am putting them back

 

Placing my signs back where they belong

 

But sometimes My pen runs out of ink

 

And My crayons break

 

Then all I am stuck with is my bed

 

And feet that can’t walk away

 

noticing the chips that seem to keep forming

 

Creaking cracks that aren’t there

 

Thinking I am broken

 

When what I should be noticing

Are the pretty signs on my back