broken.

No one talks about those innocent girls that fall in love with themselves;

no one writes about those strong women that don't need a man to feel sad.

No one understands the beauty of their broken hearts,

how time seems to collapse:

air feeling heavier, blood running thicker; 

the heart becoming thinner.

No one appreciates the joy of a mind bouncing on the edge of breaking down;

the greatness of an entire world detonating.

All the sharp pieces of a broken soul invading the floor 

and a crying girl dancing with bare feet over the ruins of a castle of glass.

No one sees the power of sorrow and grief;

 no one loves the magnificence of a killing pain.

No one notices the light of a dark mind.

That's because only sad girls know how to love a broken heart.