Fucked-up people

I love fucked-up people

I love the flatmate who would hug me at night, away with the fairies

I love the mother who bakes cakes, abused by a man five times her age

I love the brother who can’t sleep, and suffered the same

I love the artist who folds flowers, deep in depression

I love the interior decorator who plays like Hendrix, beaten to a pulp by his dad

I love the headstrong girl who burns incense, chronic pain every day

I love the big friendly activist who knows what is right, a psychotic

I love the blond surfer dude who has the accent, keeps having seizures

I love the good christian uncle who laughs, overdosed and died

I love the sports therapist who collects swords, hitman for a drug lord

I love the hairdresser who can braid hair with one hand, shoots up drugs in her tea breaks

I love the Muslim woman who propagates plants, exhibitionist posing nude on the internet

I love the singer with the husky voice, self-inflicted scars all over her body

Fucked-up people are the most beautiful people in the world