Hey there.
Yes, you over there.
Has anyone told you lately that you look great?
Yes, with your morning hair. Your “chopstick” limbs. Those things you call fat. Your skin with all the blemishes which make you shine brighter. Your eyes which shine like the stars.
I want to say that you look beautiful, and that you shouldn’t worry about what you look like.
WHAT?
What do you mean you’re a terrible person?
Oh, is it because of the intense jealousy for those who have things you don’t have?
Or maybe because you feel immensely insecure of your wonderful self? Or maybe because you take out that anger and sadness o
Cut on my leg, blood on my wrist.
Towel beneath me, scissors in my fist.
I hold my breath and gasp in pain.
Blood falls, in a crimson rain.
Strawberry gashes all over my wrist.
Its out of love, that I do this.
Hide my pain, under a scarf.
And tomorrow Ill pretend to smile and laugh.
When you look into the mirror
See that person staring back
You know that it's not who you were
And slowly start to crack
That person has become you
You can feel it in your veins
The moment overtakes you
And to take away your pain...
You hate the person you've become
But there's nothing left to do
The nightmare's just beginning so
You have to see it through
The pain you're feeling has to end
Everyone around you lied
It consumes your very mortal soul
It burns you deep inside...
So reach for the vodka
Reach for the blade
Knock back yet another shot
Without the lemonade
Apply the pressure, break the skin
You're going round