I look towards silhouettes to tell me that I am special

How do I know I have worth without it coming from someone else’s mouth?

I crave what my parents never gave me

I misinterpret admiration for love

I mistake praise for care

I seek what I always wanted

But it’s not all that I thought it would be

My ideas of love come from a lonely place

A place where I often get hurt

I look in my mirror and I only see a silhouette

Maybe that’s the problem

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