Mutated
Monsters Made
Words are said.
Tears are shed.
Hearts break.
And that's the end.
The awful truth is that it always ends this way. For one or the other.
One heart always cracks quietly down the center. The hurt heals, slowly sometimes, but it does. It would be nonsense to say otherwise.
But that scar will always show in certain light.
Sometimes, instead of a clean break, you're forced to see it over and over again. You have to see what used to be your every day, only it's not yours anymore. A bruised heart takes that kind of beating and fills with endless hate.
And hate darkens a heart into a mutated, ugly thing.
Tears are shed.
Hearts break.
And that's the end.
The awful truth is that it always ends this way. For one or the other.
One heart always cracks quietly down the center. The hurt heals, slowly sometimes, but it does. It would be nonsense to say otherwise.
But that scar will always show in certain light.
Sometimes, instead of a clean break, you're forced to see it over and over again. You have to see what used to be your every day, only it's not yours anymore. A bruised heart takes that kind of beating and fills with endless hate.
And hate darkens a heart into a mutated, ugly thing.