You're damaged goods,child. I don't know who hurt you, but I know who can heal you. Past hurts hide until we're not looking. They grow fat in repression. They grow big on our depression.
Denial becomes our obsession.
You're damaged goods,child. I don't know who hurt you, but I know who can heal you. You're damaged goods,child. I don't know who hurt you, but I know who can heal you. I hate this,and what it does.