Symmetry is what kills me
Everyday
Proxy and poking

All day all day all day
Symmetry is what kills me
Proxy and poking

What kills a lady
With a shuffling heart
Heart beats a pitter patter across a blood stream
Angles and ages

America, isn't the symmetry of my veins that carry my oxygen enough?
Why does the flesh
My mounted flesh
Purpose was to sheath me from the cold
Purpose is now askew
Mixed and messy
Even my perception is far from Symmetrical.

I apologize for my odd lips
Minor and minute
My DD faces
Is that not what the true face is?
The pink heads splayed across a globed smile and frown
Lopsided and all that matters
My true face is covered
But my true face is the object of obsession
My silly, silly old lips
My flappy *****
My rings of curly tresses galore

Symmetry still kills me, everyday.