Red Heliotrope

No more pretence.
No more lies.
I can't do this again.
Can't be pushed and pulled
And moulded into
Someone – something
– That I'm not.

Purple bruises
Coat my bleeding heart
And back and arms.
They're all covered in the scars
That come with years
And sorrows and my past.

A shell remains,
And the shell is safe.
For it's pretty,
And no one will break it,
For people love the pretty things.

A shell remains,
But the shell is weak.
And it will let me down,
For there are many pretty things,
Yes, there are many pretty things,
This world is oh so full
Of "original" designs and patterns
Wonder what they think of me?

The blood is gone,
All wiped away,
And thrown into the trash.
My poor eyes are drained,
There's no tears left.
No betrayal of emotion.

Oh, if there was just a way
To protect this piece of me.
Just to keep it safe
And keep it whole and clean
And pure
And just so
Perfect

These words are
My hidden truth.
I won't let myself down again.
Not again. Never, ever, again.

But I lie about the lie.
And that lie is the only
Lie I'm telling now,
I swear there is only one.
Yes, I swear there's only one.
Just a single untruth,
And that's the truth.
The whole damned truth.
I swear.
I swear…