monsters have shoved their claws into my ambitions you have turned my body into butter unsalted, not the good kind my arm reminds me of a tree carved my young men, hungry to be remembered and to leave an ugly mark dripping like sap
i feel like Jenny βdear god, make me a bird, so i can fly far, far away from hereβ because i am ******* sick and tired to being forced to look forward to telling my excruciating narrative, like pulling my nails from my nail beds and remember, it is my ******* story, not yours, it will never be yours
i am not your final girl i am not even your girl and i hate to break it to you, but i never will be
the world is a *****, but over realized, so am i, yet more than anything, i have been the cattiest ***** to myself for years , and iβve finally decided, i am ******* fed up with taking my own abuse