Some people say they know me.
Some people say that they care.
Other people like to think they know my story and honestly it's not fair.
I've lived a thousand lifetimes,
And cried a thousand tears.
But hearing them say they know me, is not something I want to hear.
Do you really know who I am?
And what I actually live for?
My life's a mess of mazes,
running into hundreds of locked doors.
At night, I lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep.
Wanting to live another life or just wanting so badly to leave.
I'm sitting here lonely trying to mend a broken heart. Not knowing how to pick up the pieces of my life that's been torn apart.
No one really knows me and they don't really know what I'm about. Yeah I'm a fucked up kid but my life's not theirs to doubt.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Little Girl
RandomJournal entries from a broken girl who wants her story known. It's hard to tell your story when no one wants to listen so she pours her heart out to the paper. Her best friend is her pen & Her life is on the pages.
