slender beams if sun light
shines upon my pale face
dust danceing in the looms of windows
the warmth burning my icy cold skin
my silken black hair is moved
no longer hiding my face
the crimson scars that once shown
are healed and gone
never to return
the transparent water
no longer falls from my eyes
there finaly dry
the broken, empty thing in my chest
is slowly resorecting
not completly but only time will tell
I'm not saying I'm happy
it's to soon to tell
I think I'm numb
that might explain why I can't feel anything
this process sucks
the whole getting better thing
but at least
I'm healing
so dose this mean I'm like a scab?
and somebody could just pick me apart
I don't think that would be fun
I hate this
I'd rather be numb
so I don't have to feel