Bpd Poems Novels & Stories

I guess I can't judge him right now because I don't know him at all. *** "Hey, Lizzy!" I open my eyes and see Soul at the end of my bed with a tray filled with food. My mouth waters at the sight and smell of the pancakes. I quickly sit up carefully and dig into my meal. I've been in bed for about four hours now, writing poems. My father wrote my mama a poem when she died. That's what got me started. Poems let you express your true feelings, but in a way that is so...unique. I wrote my poems ALOT when the abuse got worse through my teenage years. I used to cut myself, I used to totally hate myself. But as I got older I realized how everything I believed about myself was a lie. Caroline wanted

Just something to cool this fire in my chest. Downstairs, the kitchen is still and dark. I flick on the light, open the fridge, pour myself a glass of cold water. I’m just about to take a sip when my phone buzzes. Cass. Of course. She sent a poem. A screenshot of a tweet she posted, knowing I’d probably see it late. I open it. “You are not a vessel. You are the sky. You are the universe, and not just the broken stars in your womb.” “You are not your pain. Not your prognosis. Not the people who have tried to rewrite you.”