Tonight I tell you I’m not worth ****,
Day after day I mope and I sit,
And I think of how ******* disturbed this all is,
Life continues around me, but no, I insist,
That this cynical, worthless, despicable hole,
Is what I've become,
I’m losing my soul,
Each day, a new way, to set the pain still,
Who’s the one with the gun?
I'm the one they should ****,
And I cling to whatever my cold hands can find,
Each morning, another ******* hill to climb
So I smoke it away,
I take to the blade,
I bleed out my sorrows,
Im not ******* okay,
And I just want to die, I wish I would die,
And leave all the struggles and ******* behind,
And you tell me its selfish, it makes me feel worse,
You were my rock, turns out you’re my hearse,
You see scars on my skin, and you tell me to stop,
*******,
You're my reason to put more on top,
You’re so fake,
I don’t care that I “could have it worse”,
Don't disparage my suffering,
I'm left with this curse

You see that boy, in
the corner of the room?
He has scars on his wrists,
and on his stomach.
From trying to **** his pain
or **** himself, because he
does not even know where
he begins, and his pain ends.
You see the cute girl, who sits
Against the wall, silent as a tomb?
She is just shy, right? no, the risk
of getting hurt is enough for her to fake
her silence, no matter the gain,
because she is always left, she
never gets to let people be aware
of who she is, so her heart she tends.
You see that boy there, the weird one
who is all over the place, whom
is everyone's friend? He is a visc-
eral friend, and does not take
no for an answer, but his pain
is something he cannot understand, he
cannot help but rage against an unfair
world, make all the pain just end.

One can just get lost
in those eyes of yours,
just one glance and your
hooked, and want more,
more than just one glance.
Those blue eyes, they
capture you and leave
you breathless, and may
you help me stop drowning
in them? If not, then
I wouldn't mind losing
myself in them, can
I just tell you straight up,
your eyes could steal
a soul, or they do the
reverse, and leave you healed.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you fade.
I'm waiting until you become dust
all for a more prominent ribcage
and to be able to cut diamonds
with your collarbones.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you cry
in front of your reflection.
your pain is never beautiful
but your soul always will be.
you always were.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you die.
you were always so fragile,
so delicate. I fear you might snap
when I try to hug you close,
with your bones digging into my arms.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you fight.
although, it's not so much of a fight
when you're too tired to
and the winner is guaranteed
and you never wanted to win anyway.

LOOKS, LOOKS, LOOKS
that's all anyone ever talks about anymore
and I'm so **** sick and tired of it

People
insult me and put me down
but what they don't realize is
I put myself down
every single time I look in the mirror

So I avoid looking at my reflection
hoping to escape my demons
Praying that my very presence won't offend
wishing my eyes would stop seeking
the imperfections

I'm surrounded by guys
and being the only girl I'm a target
they take their chance
and one by one take a shot at me
They say it's only teasing but if that were true
then why do you always say these things?

So before they can diss me
I diss myself
I always say dissing myself
is better than being dissed

They tell me I'm beautiful one minute
then claim to rather commit suicide than
be attracted to me
and I hide beneath clothes
hiding my body as best as I can
and hide my identity with my hair

I remember being compared to other girls
they were always angels
and I was just the monster hiding under the bed

Ask anyone and they'll say I'm strong
nothing will ever hold me down
but that I'm a little insecure
but they don't know that
beneath the rough exterior is just a girl
with a heart
begging to be loved

I've always been the strange quiet one
with her face stuck in a book
a passion for music
and a love of writing

But back in elementary
I never ate breakfast
a few spoonful's of yogurt for lunch
and a bite or two of dinner
I was so skinny my family called me
Flaca, skinny in spanish

Everyone always said
"you're just so skinny and small"
and never glanced at me twice
but now that I eat they all say
"you're such a fat ***"
I'm still just a sack of bones
just with a little more meat now

And I remember being told for the first time
"you're beautiful"
but I never believed
not after being told I was liked but
that I wasn't good enough to be dated
or that I'm a "mega *****"
"if you're going to be weird don't talk to me"
"you have a witchy nose, like Pinocchio"
"fat ugly lips"
and "******* ugly as ****"

No I never believed the
"you're beautiful" line
because I never felt beautiful
or even deserving of that stupid line
and now I'll admit
I'm afraid to believe or even think for just one second
that I could ever be
Beautiful

I walk the streets proudly
my head held high
These marks that startle people
are my battle scars
Fighting the existent ideas
of false beauty
All the teen years of my life.