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Be disgusted by your body's limitations, You are just a sack of meat. Indigestible and rotten, so throw yourself into the forest but not even the dogs would eat.

Your body is decorated inside by a set of hollow bones, a firm stream of unjustifiable hatred pumping into every big vein and small vessel.

Long strands of hair spill from your head, but they are just dark roots of hatred coming from your messed up ideologies in the disguise as something beautiful.

Your own skin contradicts you, bounding you to the harsh reality of the world.

To live a thousand lives is nothing special, to be conscious and live in one is exceptional, and yet you waste the one conscious life you have by being you.

Your own abilities are locked away. Deep down in unreachable layers.

If you plunge the knife deep enough, you could reach it. But are you willing to get messy in the process?

Could your own bare hands tear at your tar skin? Could you handle your mother's screams for her baby to drop?

To be born was a crime, and having flesh was your punishment. Flesh is humiliation. Something that restricts you from potential.

If I handed you a knife, would you butcher away at the parts others find..disapproving?

Would you use it to cater to their unrealistic needs?

You will always be perceived from the outside, and not the inside. 

Maybe mother nature will accept your rotting corpse.

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