i lock the screen as raging eyes reflect back in the black
ponder on the endless inevitable scrolling, staring into the life of another being i will never imitate
a soul who will never know me or how i long to be like them, flawless frame, contagious eyes
i am just the teary eyed girl behind the telephone wondering could i be loved compared to no other
who am i to hold hatred against you who i do not know?
the real hatred i hold in my hands is only against myself, i manifest it upon you
the only worth in me who is my lover once loved you
can i wash myself of this inferiority?
i run from the bleak reflection
and long for the sting that heals nothing
i wish to cry to my mother and father
"i am sorry i hate who you made"
you gave me your eyes and your teeth
your shape and the string of your genes
that are fond to me and i notice their beauty
but my own i can only grimace at
and twist myself inside out in attempts to reverse myself
i cannot paint my face enough to match her beauty
i cannot starve myself enough to fit her frame
i will never be a replica of art
i am the paint scraped at the bottom of the bucket
the beautiful you speak of only smell of a lie inside of me
