Sometimes I feel so immature
Watching myself in the mirror
Painting my eyes
Through the scars
Of the tears
I'm shedding alone
But I like these scars
They remind me of my soul
Sometimes I forget I have one
I think we all do
But we all have a soul
And this soul can get hurt
Over the emptiest
Most meaningless
Minor things
But we keep forgetting we have one
Still hurt
We feel the pain
But our brain tells us
That we're immature
And I feel immature when I paint my scars
Just to feel pretty
When I see other girls unpainted
Clear
Without scars
And I wish I felt jealous
But I love my scars
They remind me
That I can be broken and alive
At the same time
That it takes a million seconds
To get through every thought
That conquers my mind
That my eyes might seem dead
But are so full of life
I wish someone noticed them
I wish I was something for someone
I wish they saw my soul
I wish they saw how broken and alive
I can be
But they just see my scars
They paint new ones
And I collect them
Like compliments
If I was pretty
And when I paint
The last inch of my face
I plan my smile
Do I even know how to smile?
Should I also start collecting smiles?
Sometimes I feel immature
For letting my thoughts swallow me
Are we all immature?
I always chase what I think
My brain deserves
And it's just rotten pieces
Of my past selves
But at the same time
I'm evolving
Behind the glass that shows me
My painted face
My painted eyes
My hidden soul
My scars
Can you see my scars?
If you can,
will you protect them,
or will you make new ones?,
Both will bring tears
So go ahead ,
Here are
My scars.

Capitalism works wonders
when you buy your soul again
after selling it to the black market
just to have two more people recognise you

Blood is just another shade of red
for the ties of the clowns with the formal attires
and suddenly everyone's accusing you again
for committing epicureanism
when you were just trying to
devour minimalism
with technology that
working hands got beaten up for

Everything violent is unacceptable
until economy craves it
then you can demolish the whole world

******* doesn't produce
enough serotonin anymore
after you've already licked
every coin you were given
and then you hear a child mourning
their stolen youth
but you're just upset because
I didn't identify their gender

You don't look good with tears
yet you whimper every time
you're not donated with a package
so pathetically sad
when the billionaire
blood feasting cooperation
doesn't acquire your fake money

And then your portrait
in your pseudo glass reality
seems to be getting old
even though they promised
that beauty hurts
but maintenance forges
your ideal mockery

O what a pity
seeing you so edible
yet so gory

I bet you're dating to colonise
and you charge for every kiss
you once assumed you had synesthesia
but you identified every sound and picture
with green
then you proceeded to commercialise
your exquisite palette
with food you yearned for
and with every drop of your saliva
a genocide began to emerge

Crying again you inject yourself with venom
that dances with your older genes that you'll never meet

O what a pity
seeing you so edible

is it considered cannibalism
for us to eat the rich
or for them
to fanatisize our hunger
through bread and circuses?