The Wreckage

The truth of the matter is…

I’m not pretty any more.
I want to fucking kill people

that call me pretty.
I want to say,

Wake the fuck up!
Look at me.

Really look.
Do I look fucking beautiful to you?!
I’m rotting inside.
The flesh is falling off of me.
You don’t even bother to stop and look.
You don’t bother to see me. 
I’m all used up and worn out.
Medicine slathered and oozing

all over my soul.
I’m trying to heal..

But God damn it,

and God damn me,

I’m not pretty.
Pretty don’t look like this.
Pretty don’t feel like this. 
I’m just a wreck with nice 

packaging,
and wrecks are ugly.

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