The scars
The world made you believe.you were not worth loving.
They looked at your wounds and called you damaged.they saw the pieces of you scattered across the years and decide you are beyond repairs.but hear me,they where simply looking with the wrong eyes,u r fine art master piece handing quietly on the wall waiting for the eyes that knows how to stop and truly see.some called you chaotic because they never learned how to understand your colors. But u re an abstract beauty the kind they can never understand because some beauty where never meant to be possessed.u r not broken ur mosiac of what you survived swt together by God every shade still telling the truth in the scars.your scars are not something to hide they are the hard earned proof that I v lives through what tired to end you and evidence of every moment tired to erase you and failed.you stayed even when you have every reason to disappear. You stayed and the darkness they see in you they dnt understand it because darkness is not always the absence of light.sometinesvit simply the shadow cast by something luminous .u where never too much never too intense,to complicated. They simply didn't posses the language to understand the universe you carry within you.you re poetry the kind that can't be understood in a single reading.youbare a constellation and any soul patient enough to look at you will discover another star.so dnt let the wrong eyes tell you what u'r worth they only saw the surface God see the depth. They counted your cracks God saw the light coming through. You are not a rough draft waiting to be corrected .u r not some that needs to be one worthy of love.u 're the final pieces, the raw,the real and breathtaking exactly as you are.