Posted in hamilpuff talks

Broken

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Will somebody really choose a broken soul?

Will somebody really live up to one’s broken brain?

She’s out of her wits, she’s out of her mind

A cheery jumping monkey by day,

A sweet sad writer by night.

She’s drained and exhausted

As insanity consumes her in class

At the end of the day, the prince is not a prince for her

But rather

At the end of the day, the prince turns into a sleepy cat

And in this ideology, she was the prince

Although not literally, her mind blows up

With flowers popping everywhere

Expecting no one to pull her close and hold her tight

Saying “Hush now, little one, you I am here and you can just be silent and weep if you want,” or something like

“Ssh, it’s okay, I know often you become sad and happy and I can take you for what you are, thorns or no thorns,”

How does one knight in shining armor say such words when the world shuts their thoughts to her mindless talking and senseless humor?

How does one man carry such a broken burden, a walking madness, and a self-proclaimed mad writer?

In the midst of a crooked road, there lived a crooked man, and he loved a broken maiden from the hills of Crooked Land.

via The Daily Post

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Author:

A future famous writer who elopes with adventure and lives a life of wonder. between 25 and 30, she continues to explore human realities and struggles to change the unchangeable currents of the seven seas.

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