|| My hands are made to hold your hands if you feel lonely.
But they can't heal those who are broken.
My spin are made so I can stand out in a crowd
But it can't straighten my flawed soul.

My arms are made for invisable scars.
But they haven't always battled for something good.
My eyes are made to see your sorrow.
But they can't blink away your pain.

My legs are made to carry me through life and they are ready to be filled with brusies.
But they are not strong enough to take on your bruised heart.
My mind is made so I can send you thoughts.
But it can't transform your massages into spoken words. That's on you
And only for you to handle.
You can only send the massage to the world. You are the message.
You are indeed a broken soul. But it can be fixed. The brusies will heal.
Just believe. ||