‘You’re the reason they name storms after people; don’t let them crush you.’

“You’re searching for all these answers, 
but baby, you’re not going to find them inside your wrists or on the tops of your thighs.

Stop tearing apart your skin searching for a way to forget the sound of his voice. 
Stop destroying yourself because he stopped loving you.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you? 
You’re not just some girl;
you’re a storm with skin.”

This poem is about: 
Me

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