Band-aids and Butterflies

I think this will be a bunch of poems, maybe.

You loose it 

before you get a grip,

nobody ever said

you'd be perfect.

 

What's the point

in living in the past,

pulling yourself back,

when it only had to hurt

once?

 

Don't relive it,

just forget it,

it's dead,

stop crushing 

it in

deeper.

 

There are so many

things in front of you,

just turn around

and look at me,

you'll see,

that you have so 

much more

now

than you did then.

 

You

are 

okay.

 

And I think you'll see that,

someday...

The End

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