My body is a temple, one I must uphold.
My body is a temple,
A temple with a few bricks askew?
The foundations no longer stable?
Moss and ivy growing up the sides, finding all the crevasses.

To look at, all but a natural beauty.
I'm weathered at such a ripe young age.
My body is a temple.
But this temple needs a grave.

I can't call the architect,
To tell them they ****** up.
All the sympathetic looks, or sideways glares.
No one truly understand the amount I learn,
from the way they look at me.

My body is a safety hazard.
No warning sign required.
Hips and arms clicking and cracking. Legs, back and neck no better

Ease me up gently and handle with care.
I'll bruise with the slightest pressure.
My temple may as well be completely collapsed right on top of me.

My temple has a leak causing the structure to rot.
I don't have the energy,
To fix myself again.
I don't have the energy.
I'm barely even still me.