Bre Writes Books

I was fresh out of the package,

and you burned me with your influence.

Fed me your lines and your rhymes,

All in perfect time and cadence.

You marked me with your ways,

and your faults,

so that whenever I do anything,

I am reminded of you.

Your rhymes and your cadences,

all getting stuck in my head as they are tattooed on my skin.

Sometimes,

the only way to heal is to break,

shatter until I can’t hear your melody anymore.

Break and twist until I can no longer fit in your machine.