Dry dry legs from all the damaged you've pressured into me

Irritated flower and poor little underarms

You have rose bumps all over, they sting and bother

They go away with chemicals

They come back and steal more minutes away

How to wish a body can be so perfect and mutilated?

When can those strands on your head be perfectly curled?

Heat, pain, cute little rose knives,scratches,

You’re pretty with pink

You’re pretty in blood.