when i cry

I think perhaps you thought me beautiful at first glance

not knowing I was all apple-dropped

and chopped up inside

if you had seen my bruises, well, what then?

But you did not.

And you had already fallen

before those lovely curls unfurled

and you finally detected

the different fragrance of freshly shattered

glass in me

and you were already sinking

perhaps

before my glittery eyes

betrayed

disguises

construed

in the valleys of life

and you could not unclimb me

then

how do you feel inside

when I cry

and I’m fragile (?

And the only lovely part of me

often looks like misery

          

        when I hurt for the world

in a world of hurt

and the ache is what He uses to make

me clean?