You counted my ribs, your hands as a tape,
if you could, you’d split my chest open,
mold me down into your favourite shape,
mirror broken, a truth left unspoken.
Mouth full of razorblades to cut within,
never saw a soul, labeled every sin,
carved your judgement beneath my skin,
saw me through a straw-narrow and thin.
Nov 1, 2025
Nov 1, 2025 at 4:14 PM UTC
You counted my ribs, your hands as a tape,
if you could, you’d split my chest open,
mold me down into your favourite shape,
mirror broken, a truth left unspoken.
Mouth full of razorblades to cut within,
never saw a soul, labeled every sin,
carved your judgement beneath my skin,
saw me through a straw-narrow and thin.
26/10/25
Song to go with poem:)
Alina Baraz- "To me"