Pieces of Her

Not Sorry

I'm sorry.

Not for who I am or what I've done.

I have broken myself many times trying explain the complexity that is my being.

I have spent nights on damp pillows and cold sheets, trying to pull myself together.

I have imagined how I would be if I wasn't bound to this body or this earth.

I have dreamed of being anyone else than myself.

Anyone else than the girl who has lost so much.

Anyone else than girl who has seen, experienced and felt so much.

Much more then anyone her age should've felt.

Because while they were worried about sleep overs and bed times.

I was fighting with thoughts of life and nightmares.

I was fighting the loneliness that seemed to creep out more and more.

I was fighting the demons no one could see behind the strong facade and the popular smile.

I was a girl fighting to stay alive while the world kept pushing her to the other direction.
 
I was me.

And I will be the first to admit

Maybe I left pieces of myself everywhere.
Pieces that were just too sharp for people to pick up.

So they left them there and continued to try to change the little girl.

But she didn't need saving or changing.
She needed time to heal and glue herself back together.

So I'm sorry.

I'm sorry if you cut yourself, trying to pick up the pieces I've dropped.

I'm sorry for the hurt.

It might be the way I'm made.
That, I could never change.

So I'm sorry that my edges are a little too rough for your hands.

But you should know, I wasn't made for fragile hands.

- Zee