A Person of My Kind

I have a new perfume, It’s called: Acid from my Stomach It doesn’t smell very good, but I put it on anyway Sometimes, once in a while in just leave the bottle in the drawer Because I don’t need to please anyone, or please myself This concentrated liquid made a new person out of me Someone i never though i would be It, a disease I only wish that I could drop the bottle on the floor and find it in a thousand pieces Then, it would be gone forever, the smell would eventually fade away I never though I’d became obsessed with one of the essential element of life Control is no more in my two hands, none sense took care of it My finger, the most useful tool in a person of my kind’s life is controlled by gilt Gilt, a feeling, a leader, an influence increased by temptation Shame is an enemy for a person of my kind I swallow my words For the fear of being categorized A category unapproved by the society A walking disease, is what I am Maybe they’re right, maybe it’s a big deal after all Believe, trust, no! It is not possible for a person of my kind A person of my kind, a bulimic