Julianna May

You say you’re torn,
Like the pages unevenly ripped out of a teenagers diary.
You say you’re shattered,
Like the pieces of a porcelain doll that slipped through the hands of a toddler.
You say you’re broken,
Like the old VHS player that doesn’t play, only eats what you place in it’s mouth.
But, my darling,
You are still a magnificent creation.
Though you may be battered, shattered, ripped and bruised,
You are still beautiful.