Hating yourself is such a funny way to die
As your words like daggers cut into the limp skin behind your kneecaps
Or the electricity in your back
They know exactly how to make it hurt the most
Before your demise.
Your thoughts become the finger in your throat
The "don't eat, you're always fat" mentality
The "I'm not hungry, but thanks" facade
Then in the bathroom, alone with your disarray
All the grief you give yourself is tied in the shape of a noose
Perceptive perspective ******* is clouding your vision
Until the face in the mirror becomes someone else completely.
You're wish is its command
Because you are no longer you
But isn't that what you wanted?
Be careful what you wish for
Because becoming someone else completely
Can chip away the pieces of the sculpture
Until there's nothing there
At all.