This is the chapter where I come home to myself.
These poems are not polished masks, they’re raw, honest reflections. The messy healing.The quiet realizations.
The strength found in softness.It’s me… becoming..

And maybe, in these words, you’ll find a piece of you too..
With love xoxo,
Pretty Wreckage

Skin I Shed

Date: 2025-05-21
Mood: Shedding the past, stepping into truth
I used to shrink to fit their comfort,
bend at every corner just to stay loved.
My voice, once fire, reduced to a whisper,
just enough to warm them,
never enough to burn.

I smiled when I was bleeding,
apologized for needing,
made myself so small
I almost disappeared into their silence.

But one day,
I looked in the mirror
and didn’t recognize the girl
wearing everyone else’s expectations
like borrowed skin.

So I began to peel.
Layer by trembling layer.
Guilt. Gone.
Shame. Stripped.
Their version of me. Torn off like old wallpaper,
flaking, fake, and fading.

And beneath it all,
raw
scarred
aching
alive.

I held her.
The real me.
She was softer than I remembered,
but tougher than they’d ever know.

Now,
I am not everyone’s version of lovable.
I am not tidy.
I am not easy.
But I am mine.
Fully.
And finally.
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Mirror Talk

Date: 2025-05-13
Mood: Reflective, Tender
  I met her eyes, mine, in the mirror today,
  not with judgment, not with shame,
  but with something like sorrow,
  and something like grace.

  I traced the soft lines time etched on my skin,
  each a map of a moment I almost didn’t make it through,
  and whispered apologies to the girl
  who begged to be seen, but was always silenced.

  “I’m here,” I said,
  not just with lips, but with presence.
  I stood still long enough to notice
  the wild ache hiding behind tired eyes.

  I saw how I faked being strong
  while my soul whispered for softness.
  I saw the weight I carried,
  not in hands, but in clenched smiles.

  And I let myself cry,
  not because I was broken,
  but because I was finally brave enough
  to be whole in front of myself.

  The mirror didn’t lie,
  it didn’t flatter or forgive,
  it simply reflected the truth:
  that becoming is messy,
  and loving yourself is the loudest rebellion.

  So I looked deeper, past the surface,
  past what the world told me I was,
  and whispered to her, to me,
  “You’re not just enough. You’re everything.”
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Bruised, Not Broken

Date: 2025-04-29
Mood: Resilient, Wounded
  My skin tells stories the world never asked to hear,
  quiet tales inked in violet, yellow, fading green,
  not from fists or falls, but from battles within,
  where my heart cracked but never caved in.

  Each scar, a sentence in the language of survival,
  each bruise, a breath I chose to keep taking.
  I’ve broken in places no one saw,
  then stitched myself up with trembling hands.

  There were nights the silence screamed louder
  than any voice I’d ever known.
  Mornings where sunlight felt too sharp,
  slicing through the lies I wore like armor.

  But still, I rose.
  With messy hair, tear-streaked cheeks,
  and a soul that refused to stay silent.
  I showed up, even when I shook.

  I am not unmarked,
  but I am not ashamed.
  My pain didn’t make me less,
  it carved space for more of me.

  So here I am,
  open, aching, alive,
  not flawless, not fixed,
  but beautifully, defiantly unbroken.
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The Me I Hid

Date: 2025-04-01
Mood: Hidden, Raw
  She was quiet.
  Not because she had nothing to say,
  but because her voice was always punished
  for daring to echo in rooms not meant for her.

  She smiled so no one would ask,
  stayed small so no one would notice,
  and built a version of herself
  that wouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable.

  She hid the fire,
  tucked the wild behind her ribs,
  dressed in what they called "nice,"
  swallowed her dreams in tiny doses.

  She became what the world wanted,
  obedient, soft, contained.
  But every night,
  she missed herself like a ghost.

  Now, she’s tired of hiding.
  Of dimming for the comfort of others.
  Of pretending her silence was strength,
  when it was survival all along.

  So here she is,
  flawed, fierce, found.
  Stepping into the light not to be seen,
  but to finally see herself.
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Beneath the Silence

Date: 2025-03-18
Mood: hopeful
Beneath the silence, where shadows sleep,
Lie truths I buried, too heavy to keep.
Whispers of pain, faint cries unheard,
Echoes of secrets, not spoken, not stirred.

I locked them away in the deepest part,
Hoping to heal my fractured heart.
But silence grew thick, a choking embrace,
Filling the void, erasing my grace.

They nearly stopped breathing, these truths of mine,
Drowning in darkness, lost in time.
Yet here I stand, fragile, yet free,
Facing the silence to finally be me.
  
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Reborn in Pieces

Date: 2025-03-04
Mood: Raw, Reborn
I didn’t come back whole, just shards and scars,
a mosaic of battles fought beneath the stars.
Each broken piece, a story to tell,
of falling down hard and rising from hell.

I gathered the fragments, one by one,
under the pale light of a fractured sun.
Though edges are jagged, and seams still show,
this imperfect self begins to grow.

Reborn not perfect, but deeply alive,
in the cracks, my true colors thrive.
I carry the weight of what’s been through,
and in this brokenness, I find truth.
  
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Unlearning the Lies

Date: 2025-02-25
Mood: Faint Hope
I wore their names like heavy chains,  
labels stitched into my skin,  
telling me who to be, how to act,  
what to hide and what to sin.  

But now I’m peeling off the layers,  
shedding every borrowed name,  
unlearning the lies they taught me,  
breaking free from shame.  

It’s a slow undoing, a gentle fight,  
to reclaim the self beneath the weight,  
to breathe, to live, to finally see  
the truth that was mine from the start.  
  
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Roots and Wings

Date: 2025-02-11
Mood: Raw, Powerful
Deep in the soil, my roots run strong,  
anchored in stories, both right and wrong.  
They hold me steady when winds try to sway,  
reminding me of where I lay.  

But inside me burns a restless flame,  
a yearning to fly, to carve my name.  
Wings that tremble but stretch so wide,  
ready to soar, no need to hide.  

I carry both, the earth and the sky,  
the past that grounds me, the dreams that fly.  
A balance fragile, yet fierce and true,  
becoming the me I always knew.  
  
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Messy, But Mine

Date: 2025-01-03
Mood: Raw, Undone
I am the tangled thoughts at midnight,  
the scattered pieces no one sees,  
the wild heart that beats in chaos,  
the storm that never ceases.  

I claim these parts, imperfect, raw,  
the cracked and broken, fierce and true.  
Each jagged edge, each messy scar,  
is mine, and I am proud of you.  

Not polished, not perfect, not neat,  
but mine, a beautiful, chaotic beat.  
And in this mess, I find my voice,  
a loud, proud song, my only choice.  
  
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Becoming My Own Home

Date: 2024-12-19
Mood: Strength
I gather every shattered piece,  
the broken walls, the whispered fears,  
and build a home from truth and love,  
a shelter strong beyond the years.  

Brick by honest brick I lay,  
a place where wounds can softly heal,  
where I can rest, be safe, be me,  
a space where every scar is real.  

Soon no longer lost in wandering storms,  
no longer bound by others’ hands,  
I am my fortress, fierce and warm,  
my own safe place, my heart’s own land.  
  
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I Am Not Her Anymore

Date: 2024-11-29
Mood: Broken But Free
I carried her inside me like a secret flame,  
a fragile shadow flickering with quiet shame.  
She was the voice that whispered I wasn’t enough,  
the weight of silence, the edges rough.  

But time has worn the cracks beneath my skin,  
and now a new story quietly begins.  
I’ve mourned the girl who lived in fear,  
who hid her tears so no one would hear.  

I am not her anymore,  
the broken pieces scattered on the floor.  
I’ve gathered strength from wounds unseen,  
from battles fought in spaces in between.  

Her ghost still lingers in the midnight air,  
but I stand taller, breathing harder, aware  
that pain shaped me, but did not define,  
that light can grow from scars that shine.  

So here I am, stripped bare and true,  
facing the mirror with a different view.  
Not perfect, not whole, but fiercely free,  
a woman who finally owns her story.  

I say goodbye to the girl I once knew,  
not with anger, but a gentle adieu.  
For she made me who I am today,  
and in letting go, I find my way.  
  
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Softness is Strength

Date: 2024-11-20
Mood: Uplifting
I used to hide my tears behind a guarded smile,  
thinking softness was a weakness, a fragile exile.  
But now I see the beauty in letting them fall,  
each drop a cleansing, a quiet call.  

Tears are not cracks that show where I break,  
they’re rivers that carry the strength I make.  
A gentle flood that washes away the pain,  
making room for sunlight after the rain.  

In every tremble, in every sigh,  
I find a courage I cannot deny.  
To feel deeply, to love without shame,  
to rise from ashes and call my own name.  

Softness is strength,  
a power born from all I’ve lost and gained,  
a quiet roar beneath the quiet rain.  

So here I stand, unmasked and clear,  
knowing that to cry is not to disappear,  
but to be reborn, anew each day,  
stronger in every gentle way.  
  
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What I Know Now

Date: 2024-10-07
Mood: Raw, aching truth
I carried storms inside me, wild and fierce,  
each one leaving scars no one could pierce.  
But from the thunder, the lightning, the rain,  
I gathered lessons, hard, yet free from pain.  

I learned that strength is not about standing tall alone,  
but knowing when to reach, when to be shown.  
That broken pieces don’t mean defeat,  
they make the mosaic that’s whole and complete.  

I learned to listen to the whispers within,  
the quiet voice beneath the din.  
To trust my heart even when it’s bruised,  
to love myself, even when confused.  

These lessons are stitched deep into my soul,  
earned through storms that tried to take control.  
What I know now is more than I ever knew,  
I am enough, whole, and true.  
  
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The Bloom After the Burn

Date: 2024-09-18
Mood: Fragile hope
I fell apart in flames, consumed by fire,  
Ashes scattered where once burned desire.  
The heat was fierce, the nights were long,  
But from the pain grew something strong.  

From the burn, the scars took root,  
A fragile bloom, a silent shoot.  
Tender petals through the smoke arise,  
Bringing hope beneath dark skies.  

I thought the fire would take it all,  
But in the ruin, I learned to crawl.  
To stand, to reach toward light anew,  
A stronger self, born through and through.  

The bloom after the burn is not just survival,  
It’s a fierce, wild, beautiful revival.  
Though the flames tried to steal my soul,  
I grew back whole, I took control.  
  
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This Is Me, Finally

Date: 2024-08-23
Mood: Hope, Raw, Uplifting
Raw, unfiltered, stripped of disguise,  
No more hiding behind carefully crafted lies.  
This is me, finally, unashamed, unafraid,  
A soul laid bare, no longer afraid to be displayed.  

No apologies for scars that tell my story,  
For every wound, every loss, and every glory.  
I stand here broken, yes, but also whole,  
Reclaiming the pieces that once took their toll.  

Real is messy, but real is free,  
I shed the weight of who I was supposed to be.  
In this moment, I breathe, I fight, I claim,  
This is me, finally, no one else to blame.  

So hear me now, with every honest breath,  
I’m done with silence, done with death.  
Here I am, fierce, raw, and true, 
This is me, finally, all of me, to you.
  
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