Sometimes,
I wonder if the world,
Has a place for a broken girl like me,
A ripped human bandage,
Useless and wounded.

I'm broken,
By the same woven string,
That binds me and holds me still,
And I'm temporary but used,
Until I can no longer heal anymore wounds.

There's only so many,
Wounds that I can heal,
Until I fall apart ; get thrown away,
The only memory of me is pain,
And faint cuts and scars that never heal over.

The world has no place,
For a girl like me,
A plain, torn bandage,
With no kind messages written,
Upon my skin.