Butterflies come flying out [poetry]

My Own Brand of Life Support

I'm worn out
Like that t-shirt you've had since eighth grade.
The secondhand jeans sitting in a thrift shop,
color washed away and my seams splitting.

I'll hold out my arms and show you my stitching,
Where I've fallen apart and been sewn back together.

Peel back the paint show you my coats,
Where I made mistakes and tried to pretend they didn't happen.

With cigarette stains in my eyes,
And knees that crack like spines,
I'll show you where I crumbled to pieces.

Show you where I stuck it all back together with the glue I keep in my pocket,
Like its my own personal brand of life support.

I'll show you the pieces that fell off,
And shattered like glass.

I'll also show you the beautiful things,
The mind full of words that spiral like the wind.
Eyes that see the color of yours and wish to recreate it.
Ill show you the passion,
And how I'm keeping myself together one day at a time.