He said he loves me, I told him I'm not ready.
He asked why. I said I'm not healed.
Not healed from what?
From my own darkness I said.
From the demons inside me. Though I try my best to fight them. Sometimes they win.
Sometimes they overpower me. And they are cunning enough in convincing me that I won't be good enough for you.
That I will just stain your soul.
For I am a walking obliteration. And no, I am not ready.
And I don't know when will I be.
Grabbed from an old post HERE.

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