There's a hole inside I can't seem to fill,
The more kindness they pour, the more it spills.
How do I trust, not question why?
I’ve learnt to recoil from warmth like a lie.
Inside me it echoes, sharp and curt
“You're not worth their love. You're meant for hurt.”

They say that I matter
World better with a “me”
But all I can feel is how they’re deceived.
Like they’ll take their love back
As soon as they see -
The wreck underneath.
The ugly.
The me.

I want to heal, I really do.
I try and hold on,
Believe and reach out.
But their hands feel surreal, so full of doubt.
The trauma dug deep, a truth that I breathe.
Some days I’m so scared that no-one will reach
The hollowed out parts,
The shame held beneath.

They’ll grab onto the rose, but they must be warned
It’s so far from blooming
They’ll be hurt by its thorns