I am 13 when I decide for the first time my skin isn't satisfying
And the only way to remedy that is to break inside
To pull out something unpleasant, fill it instead with boxed wine
Fill it with soft-core **** alone in my basement while I text
The oldest man who's interested in me, and it's pleasant
Until I'm rejected for the 50th time

These people are so nice about it, they exchange me
My nothings are as sweet as the first metal bite against my wrist
and, this, I promise myself, is the reminder of what it feels like
To be damp with the must of underground, amongst the spiders,
Afraid to get up or touch myself or feel anything new

When I am 15, I finally realize all of the words cascading around me
Are meant to be the knives upon which I impale
I dye my hair again and let my future fall away
I was always convinced I didn't deserve to succeed, that it
Was always out of my grasp and I cry for the first time
For a solitary hour in my grandmother's bed
Because even the next room over, she can't hear me
And I spend the whole summer rationing my food supplies
And running myself to exhaustion every morning I can rise
Nothing was as tragic as that, because it wasn't a beginning
It was 3 solid years of losing every second
And distancing myself so far from every morsel of life
I eat but I've never recovered

I haven't had a friend since I was 15, and life is starting to
Become the tedium upon which I stay teasing
Would it be better to approach or defend
The heart