Words they seem to cut the soul, in rigid angry stages. Always wondering if it'll fade, along the body that still ages.
I see the scars marking me, burned into skin with hate. Never able to escape that frame, when to little was too late.
You can see it in my reflection now, I'm worn away with time. Lost in translation is stolen youth, a perception that once left me blind.
Men look at me and think they know, because the scars I have to bare. Intimacy so hard to find, because my self worth was never there.
Twisted images in faded memories, when I once was pure perfection. Now I see a distorted me, when I gaze at my own reflection.