Gazing at the sad sorrowed remains

of what once was a person.

Now finding beauty in destruction

theres no chance of being saved.

Ink starting to flow out

like the tears that burned my face

when everything had been destroyed 

but it's strange

because now all is slowly piecing back together.

Finally I start to feel free

I'm no longer a bird trapped in a cage

beating itself to death on the cold metal beams

in a pointless act of trying to escape.

No im a flower now budding but I know

that someday I'll bloom and I'll show everyone

I'll show myself 

how I was spared the life of sadness

but for now I'll keep my pen and notebook to myself.