Broken, Imperfect And Strong
Contradicting on all levels
She protects the wildness in her heart
Covers it with her brokenness and pain,
Hides from the masses, except for a few
She often wonders if she is totally insane.
***
Normality, something she has never known
Takes every ounce of her strength to wake,
Another day trying to tame her aching soul
She rises, not for her, but for their sake.
***
She feels cornered in the deafening wilderness
Survival of the fittest, she will not give in,
She wraps her cloak of invisibility around her
Hiding from the predators, silent in her skin.
***
She knows she is broken, battered and scarred
The universal lessons beating at her door,
She grows tired, refusing to fight or run
Allowing them to rally and take so much more.
***
Accepting the law of the land, no other choice
An imperfect being, she struggles on and on,
Looking her demise, dead in the eyes
Proving her battles have made her strong.
***
Unfixable, broken beyond any form of repair
Imperfect in the eyes of this society,
A stranger running with the pack, who is she
She will bare her teeth at them defiantly.
***
It’s only with patience and unwavering belief
To gain access to her wild bloody heart,
Although take heed, very few could handle
The depth, the degree, the strength will smart.
***
She loves sparingly, although she loves hard
Boys will run after a month, maybe two,
It’ll take a full blown man, giving his Soul
To tame her wildness, to see it all through.
***
If he has the strength and the maturity
Confident and powerful in his own skin,
She will surrender to a certain degree
And a life of unbelievable love can now begin.
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Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
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Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.


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