If its not erasing,
Its ripping.
If its not ripping,
Its cutting.
Erasing.
Ripping.
Cutting.
Treat my body like a blank canvas of paper,
Waiting to be tampered with.
Because paper is nothing until you make something of it.
Nobody frames a blank sheet of paper,
But they place priceless figures on those who are
Erased.
Ripped.
Cut.
Those who are worthy enough to be
Erased.
Ripped.
Cut.
I just want to be worthy
So i
Erase
Rip
Cut
Myself until somebody finds the beauty in me
The beauty to frame me, and hang me on a wall
To show me off to the world
To place priceless figures on me
Desperate for worth
I erase
Rip
Cut
And take it upon myself
To hang me on a wall with frayed string
Attatched to my heart
And with every spectator who looks at me
I realize that they want nothing to do with me
No matter how much i
Erased
Ripped
Cut
I was an amateur in my technique
And with every
Erasing
Rip cut
I erased my beauty
Ripped my worthiness
Cut my price
So i broke the string
That hung me to the wall
And bleached myself back to my original state
Taped my pieces back together
And ironed out my wrinkles
But the thing about paper
Is no matter how hard you try to make it as beautiful as the original
It will forever show the scars
From the battles it went through