If she weren't broken,

she wouldn't know how to be her

How to be like that

How to be a writer. 

She wouldn't be able to pull out

such disorganized thoughts

in their most beautiful array,

then slowly rearrange them

to form

the most beautiful words

in the world.

She wouldn't be able

to feel.

She wouldn't have

fallen in love with

poetry.

She wouldn't even

bother writing these

poems or read them,

she wouldn't bother

writing.

She might have been

a model now 

because that was her

dream,

dampened by everyone

around her,

 but it was her

dream.

And she might have never

bothered

writing again.

 

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