Organized by Collection
OpenIf I opened my heart just like a book,
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how would you see me? Would you even still look?
Would you push me away and pretend I'm not there?
Would the honest me be just too much to bear?
If I threw away caution, let it fly in the wind.
Told you my secrets let all of you in.
Would you still look at me kindly, even still care?
Would you hold my hand gently and still be there?
If I looked at you with anger and sadness or fear,
with you, knowing the reasons, still lend an ear?
If I was to cry and fall down on my face,
would you lie and say nicely it was done with some grace?
With all of my faults laid out to see,
could you accept them and love them honestly?
The price you would pay seeing me under the light,
all the imperfection's and scars no more out of sight.
If you knew me, all of me, open and whole,
would you still say you love me, with all of your soul?
Would you look at me, the same as you do,
when you think that you know me,
when I know that's not true.
-FACE-Her face is just a spoiled world,
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A map of lines and streams of old,
But to somebody she's just a beautiful girl,
And to somebody the map unfurls.
A story of journeys and scars of late,
Rememberance, panic, dreams of hate.
But her face is a reminder of hope in hell,
To somebody she's their little girl.
Her face is just a torn up page,
With lyrics and poems and stories of age,
But to somebody she's still a beauty queen.
The scars mark a journey and everything between.
A reminder of all the conflicts that passed,
A compass directing her sail boat's mast,
While she passes under a barren sky,
To somebody she's their angel on high.
Her face is just a ruined fantasy,
With words that bleed into reality,
But to somebody she's just knockout child,
Describing her life with an empty smile.
Shaking faces of make up and love,
Encompassed in smoke of drink and drugs,
But her journeys show of sullen eyes,
To somebody she's a world of "why?"
Her face is just a wasted dream,
Of catching rain and dying