Permanent PastsA Poem by Kayla KPlease read author's note at the end.The past is the past. Though to some people, the past is not just the past. That time you were stabbed in the back, the wound is still there. The times you heart were broken, your heart is still not mended. That time you lost someone very close to you, you still miss them every day. The past is not just the past, it is now. If you used to cut yourself, if you've wanted to kill yourself, if you've starved yourself, if you've ever swallowed a pill, if you've been kicked around, if you've had hurtful words thrown at you, your past is more painful than some's, and chances are, you wish you could forget it. But don't you realize, the scars you have are so beautiful? Those scars make you who you are. With those scars, you can speak out. Use your scars to spread love everywhere. Use what you have experienced to your advantage. Write a song, or paint a picture. Fill your mind's canvas with the emotions inside your heart. Bleed upon the paper everything that you feel, and I can assure you that what you feel, it will be beautiful. All of the bad parts of your past, they are beautiful. I don't care how dark of a time it was--your scars are beautiful. You are a book, waiting to be opened. Tell us your story. ~*~ Whispering words, depression creeps upon. Hide the broken pasts, hide them like cowards
Broken and shattered Hearts all in pieces The past is the past, faded are bruises
Hurtful memories, bled upon white paper Words of the broken, are words of a fighter
Past not forgotten, a stronger creation The past creates hope, for a brand new season.
Dearest depression, make me famous. You are my past, and you are my now. Time to show braveness.
Permanent pasts, make for tomorrow. A passage of hope, filled even with sorrow
with yesterday's tears, makes for new beginnings. Tell us your story, one that everyone hears. ~*~ © 2011 Kayla KAuthor's Note
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Added on April 21, 2011Last Updated on April 21, 2011 AuthorKayla KSmall town , NYAboutI'm a cyclone of myself, a caterpillar delight still finding my wings. A balloon stuck up in the clouds, no one can bring me down from my high. Shattered into pieces, be careful when you pick .. more..Writing
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