Dirt Under the Rug


You say you see the beauty in me,
the good stuff, but can you see the bad?

Like a hood over my eyes
I stand in a room full of
my trophies only able to see
the darkness of my choices, my mistakes.

You say I inspire you to put
yourself back together,
but can you see me falling apart?

Can you see the cracks in my armor?
The blood seeping through the bandages?
I'm standing in the midst of a battle,
surrounded by other warriors,

You say I'm clean, pure,
like childhood summers
no worries, innocence.

Do you see the dirty parts,
that attract bugs and stray dogs,
the pieces I hate and hide
but can't seem to be rid of.

Everyday they eat at my soul like a parasite.
What happens when there's nothing left?

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