Broken, and twisted, and bent out of shape,
Look in the mirror, I don't see my face.
With every blow, you would slowly scrape
My heart until it was polished afresh.
With wounds that gnaw at my skin so often,
A heart made of clay that's easy to break,
I have been walking down the road of pain,
Gathering these scars by making mistakes.
And on some days the storm gives me some rest.
Sunlight creeps in through the small opening
In the walls and slowly warms up my chest-
The smile on my battered lips lingering.
You give me pain, and I drink it like wine.
Wrapped up in darkness, you taught me to shine.