Pretty
You call my scars pretty
But you never ask how I got them
You call my actions petty
Say that inside my mind is in mayhem
Have you ever wondered what cuts bloomed into my scars?
Or why I don’t know how to organize my thoughts into pretty glass jars?
You love the stars
Say they keep you calm
But the darkness the night provides as a background is why your mouth is ajar
You never look at the ingredients to your hearts soothing balm
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You marvel at the sight of a rainbow
You love how the sun makes it glow
But the clouds played a part too
That just doesn’t matter to you
So don’t call my scars pretty
If you don’t care about the story behind them
If you won’t appreciate the stories that come with me
I won’t bother making you appreciate these gems
My scars are very pretty
But because of why they bloomed
I will not explain my mind because of pity
It will never make sense to you
