Thursday, October 29, 2015


That might be,
The biggest paradox of all,
We learn to hate on people that love their selves,
When we should be taught how to love ourselves,
I grew up thinking I had to be perfect,
That I was merely a piece of a puzzle,
One day to be completed...
Now I've spend years trying to figure out,
What kind of puzzle what piece?
 A corner one, some that sticks in the middle?
Only to try and find the one thing that would complete me,
Funny thing is, the one thing that can complete me,
Is me, the love I feel for myself.
See the moment I accept myself as I am,
I feel love, even for the parts of me that aren't to be laid out in store,
It is in that moment that you become whole,
And in that moment as well you become so relentlessly attractive,
That not puzzles but frames seem to fall at your feet,
It was never anyone's intention to fall for a devided girl,
They wanted a work of art,
Little did I knew I wasn't just any piece,
But the masterpiece.

I wanted to live a life worth writing about,
Little did I knew,
I already was.

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