mendedbutbroken

If i was covered in cuts would you still think i was pretty, would you stare for all the wrong reasons or try to avoid me? We make eye contact, I feel my pulses double as I begin to choke on words that dissolve before they've had the chance to begin. I want, if anything to be liked for who I am, not just what you see. The outer layer resembles the inners. I see it in reflections as I pass down the hall. You see it as a disfigurement and bite your tongue before you can ask the question spilling out "what have you done?" I'm still me but you refuse and look past. Don't you like the badges I wear on my sleeves? Coming out wit