i am a flaw

i am perfect(ly flawed) even with scars drawn in all directions,
people still love me for who i am but they don't know that i'm
still screaming inside, thinking of her and the way she left me to
bleed on the inside and out while (trying to) vomit all the things
i don't want to be such as imperfections that i see in the mirror,
knowing that i'm too ugly & disgusting to even face the world
without smearing on the mask that i paint so carefully, trying
to fool everyone around me (even the ones i love too much).

i'm a mistake, not meant to be born because it hurts too much
to live even though people tell me that i'm meant to live for so
much more than what is eating at me on the inside. but i've
come to learn that we are faced with problems that seem too
difficult to overcome because they will help us later in life (i wish
i knew why i need to do this in order to be what i am now).

because i'm just waiting for the one person to come to me
and tell me to remove the mask because he can see straight
through the game that i'm playing (but don't mean to play, i
just don't want people to see how weak i am even though the
scars are evidence straight across my wrists). and he'll know
that i never wanted to be this way (despite what he's heard
and seen) but everything happened so quick that i couldn't
control what i was doing to myself (just ask the one i came
to when i felt like bringing the gun to my head) and that the
scars hurt him more than they hurt me when he sees them
draped in every angle while i (still) continue to hide them.

and i'm meant to be broken in order to let my light shine
but why did i not feel like that before? because with every
scar, i wanted to prove to myself that i could still feel every
word that burned into my skin but instead, it only left me
hollow inside as i tried every day to make myself feel but
nothing ever feels like before (& i can't go back to the way
i used to be because i've lost that part of me when i first
took the blade to my skin). i keep telling myself that i'm
not weak but strong because i'm not dead yet. and i'm
(still) struggling to find that one thing to live for because
i don't want him to see how i (still) bleed for the sake of
trying to hide myself behind torn flesh but i feel unworthy
of the love i receive even though it's something i treasure
when i feel completely down. but when will he love me?