You bruised me, but that just means evidence of you will be with me forever. I've struggled with this bruise for so long, but now I bare it. I'm proud. It makes me who I am. I'm weird and quirky. The opinion you drained from me is returning. I don't cry anymore. I have arms around me. Arms, that love, encourage and lift. I feel a gap, but its not for you to fill. I hide in fear of what is difficult. I don't understand myself. I can't control myself. I'm waiting for the help. The corner is dark and dusty. I'm not saying it's your fault, but I'm afraid to let anyone into it because of my bruise. My bruise is not alone, and I don't think time heals. I will treasure it always.
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