Pathetic is the label
I've branded onto my own skin
With razor blades and broken glass
With the voices that are within

I can't even look at my own
Body without shying back with disgust
And regret of the first day
I chased after the razors with lust

Weak is what I see
It's filled up every corner of me
And while everyone stares so blindingly
With their smiles curved so happily

I cry and feel empty
Though I'm filled with so much hate
Filled with anger and sorrow
That the blades are my lonely fate

Wide as a bus, she stares back at me
Fat spilling over my jeans
And pushing against my shirt
Pop pop popping at the seams

I will never be perfect
But I will always try
Even if that means not eating
And sneaking in some lies

This is my globe
That I revolve around
This is my tiny world
Where I feel so safe and sound