Your hands are filthy, trailing grime
Dragged through loveless gutters
They don't belong on this shrine
Or grabbing at the shutters
That bind together the pieces
Of my broken love for self
I've been trying to iron out creases
But I really don't want your help
Has anyone ever looked at you
And told you the very thing
(You've never heard the truth)
No, so I will: "you're disgusting"
And no, not by your definitions
You've got no tits to be small
Or fluttering waist; a malnutrition
No, it's just you, you in all
A worthless, trailing, entitled brat
Nobody ever told you "no"
At least, you didn't hear that
You heard 'teases' and "I don't wanna go slow"
Some blame systems, I blame
The ones who gave you this name
Who put the very thoughts inside your brain
And slid you into the picture frame
Where I am an object, for you to unwrap
And tear to ribbons when you can't undo
The masking tape keeping me trapped
And when you're finished, when you're through
I'll join the others, tossed aside
Because you can't be bothered to understand
The truth that, to you, has been cried
"We're not pawns on your checkered lands."
Who told you
That you had
To want me?