I can't fit in the box

that says 'perfect' anymore Every time I lay in it, it cuts me to the core A slice in my brain A slice in my face My ass My thighs A cut on my tongue for each time I lie and lie and lie Truth is the word 'fine' doesn't suit Once everyone else accepts that Maybe I can attempt to recruit a new standard for myself. I want to hear that they'll still love me if I fail Rather than Don't worry, you'll be fine. It's easy to make that 'decision' When it's not your Heart Health Brain Future Family On the line

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Lifesabeach

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