No one values a damaged soul.
Like a present that isn't wanted,
it’s taken back as soon as it's seen.

It never looks the way you expected,
but it's a sight to see all the same.
You never end up where you planned to go,
but in the end you're glad you came.

I'm the kind of girl
who picks flowers just to
tear them apart.
And I will spend more time trying
to dodge responsibility than it would
actually take to do the **** thing at all.

I know you may find that endearing
or charming even,
but you can't possibly
prepare for all the damage
I will do.

I'm the kind of girl who looks
younger than I could possibly be,
and so you may want to get closer,
crack open my skin, just to count
the age rings on my soul.

Do you want to know what
it's like to be made
to feel special?
As if someone who could pick
anyone at all loves you
the best?