i'm at battle with myself.
my skin cries a soft weep,
i act overly confident to hide the fact that i fucking hate myself.
i stare at myself in the mirror.
imaginary lines of what i should look like tracing the glass.
you like control?
well i do too.
i let you hurt me, how you choose.
whether it's drug abuse, self torture or lack of nutrients.
you make me forgive you.
how long can we play this way?
i'm tired of not loving you.
my heart wants to hold you.
but i know the rules.
as you smile at my trembling shoulders
the sound of my heartbeat is nauseating.
why do i live.
that night should've been it.
why wasn't it.
because im at a battle with myself.
should've went to sleep.
you're growing tired of me.
you love me so hard, and i still can't sleep.
sorry i don't want your touch.
it's not that i don't want you
sorry i can't take your touch.
it's just that i hate it.
i hate the way i look.
the way my body looks.
the way i speak.
the way i type.
the way i write.
my stretch marks.
my weight.
my height.
my fucking stutter.
my teeth.
my nose.
my hair.
my clothes.
myself.
insecurities eat me alive, like insects.
the only thing keeping me going is myself.
i'm at war.
it's just that i fell in love with that war.
i love looking in the mirror knowing im not perfect.
gives me a reason to keep torturing myself.
i enjoy it.
