My body is not my own.
My body belongs to my mother.
Because every time I got a new tattoo I would ask if she likes it.
And if course, she would say no
And I would be upset because I actually liked it.
But now I have snakebites.
Two small holes below my lower lip
And I'm absolutely terrified
Of her finding out.

Ive never understood why I think the way I do.
It wasn't until I opened up about it that my friend gave me clarity.
It wasn't until the words "existencial crisis" left her lips
That I understood these sudden feelings of why I was alive.
Why I do things I do.
Why I think what I think.
Why I think of every question in the world at one particular moment.
So I guess I have an extended crisis
Because I'm never not thinking the question
"Why?"

Love me, hate me, bleed me dry.
Kiss me, touch me, make me believe
In happy endings and meant-to-bes.
Push me, pull me, **** me softly.
Make me sober, make me salty.
Make me miss you, make me love you
Until there's nothing left
But endless packs of half-smoked cigarettes
And bottomless bottles of Hennesy on my lips.

Who am I?
What have I done?
I don't understand this skin I'm in.
The arms and legs are scarred with varying straight lines.
The torso is wide and the knees wobble when I walk.
The feet turn in and it hurts to correct.
The thighs are to big to even fit.

Who am I?
What's been happening?
I don't understand this body I'm in.
It's always sick and the skin rips too easily.
The fingernails grow way to quickly and the eyes are too big.
The freckles are uneven and there are to many pimples to count.

Who am I?
Where have I been?
I don't understand this heart and mind I'm in.
There are dark corners and shallow hallways.
Doors stay shut and I'm rather afraid.
There's an air of sadness and anxiety now,
And I don't know why I suddenly feel so alone.
There are cracks in the wall and the foundation always quivers,
Its as if it's made of glass and paper.

This body I now occupy has obviously seen rough times
This skin has obviously been cut way to many times
And this mind and heart has been shattered and put together to many times and it's missing pieces.
But I know there is a soul somewhere inside here
Trapped in a paper wall and to malnurished to move.
So until she can be found I'll nurish her mind and heart with poetry and books so she can grow big and strong.
Maybe someday she'll be strong enough to break the wall and take her place.
Back at the thrown in the heart.
Shell finally be while again.

You made it hard to miss you.
And I mean that, you've burried your way into my soul and rotted it from the inside.
You drove me into my endless packs of cigarettes and the countless bottles of tequila.
And with every late night in a different bed, I would drink until I couldn't walk.
I'd guzzle the Jack Daniels.
I'd push the Bacardi down my throat.
I'd infuse the ***** with my brain.
I'd drip the Jose Cuervo into my veins.
Anything, just to feel that warmth in my cheeks again, because you took it all away.
You took my innocence, and I'm not the kind of girl who was all that innocent in the first place,
But I gave you every inch of my body and you threw me aside like trash.
Begging me to **** like I was a ******* that just clocked out of work.
I know with all my heart I hate you.
But why did you give me enough good times
To where I'd miss you?

I am words written on blank paper,
The words are there but no-one can see them until they are spoken.
The girl in the back of the classroom, unnoticed
Until she can open her mouth wide enough to sing with the chorus.

I am the one they call afraid
When Destiny knocks at my door
I can't find the words to even begin to say
I'm just not yet ready
But once I am, my God, I'm unstopable.