HOUSE OF BALLOONS

Would you still want me, if I tell you about my demons? Of course, your answer will be yes.
You'll see me as a broken thing, a broken thing you can fix with love. So, you'll love me. Try to fix me.

You will plunge into my dark space, my chest of secrets. Then it'll break you, you'll get broken trying to fix me.
Will you still stay, or run away with the broken pieces of you. For not only will you be broken, you'll be made aware of your own demons. Because, while fighting my demons with me, they woke up yours, the ones that have been hibernating behind those sweet smiles and rich laughter of yours.

You become to me a broken mirror. Broken mirrors still reflect images but in halves. Broken mirrors still has it uses, but It'll never be called a mirror without being described as broken. I'll figure you'll be less broken if left alone without anymore damages.

I'll notice your starry eyes are no longer bright. And my arms won't feel like home anymore. My words won't soothe you anymore. And all the fake smiles make your cheeks ache. Now, you think I'm selfish and don't care about you. For, I'm not fighting your demons with you like you expected. And every effort I make to care won't matter anymore. You've spent so much energy fighting my demons for me, now that yours are here.  You rue the time wasted in mine.

So, you'll leave like others before you did. We built a house of balloons, called it a safe haven but forgot we're not immune to punctures.