Pain is probably one of the strongest driving forces.
It demands to expressed.
So often romanticized in writing, music and film.
But what about when it's expressed in the dark, nitty-gritty ways?
The scandalous occurrences that leave people gasping, whispering their gossip to one another.
The ways that leave you in pain so much worse than before because now you're still crying, dying and now you have blood on your hands.
It doesn't feel romantic now.
Not like it was promised.
The momentary relief now gone, like a forgotten utterance of ones love.
Where is the beauty in this?
Looking from the outside in felt so much better,
but in this dark room you don't feel so beautiful,
so mysteriously misunderstood.
you feel disgusting,
What did you do?
Shoulders shuddering, heart thudding, it's like you've committed a crime.
Caught red handed by your mirror you must hide.
Hide your mistake,
wash away the blood,
and lock the secret up far far away.
Where is the beauty now?