Break down the mirror, and break me down brains in my hair and teeth at my wrists, she said fourteen caps of alprazolam gave her all she needed she needs a new world, a new earth, a new ruler, that's what she needed- I told you it wasn't meant to be this way, i was meant to be the prettiest but girls with thickened veins and thickened wrists are destined for the bridge edge My silver smiler body double told me to cut out the poison in my veins and guess what I did it I did it I did it again tell them your name, dysmorphia, tell them all what you think of me - start the car and run me over, honey.
My poetry style is 1) ***** on a word document 2) Upload. Not good. I have yet again failed in not mentioning wrists in a poem...****.