Damaged Goods
They say I’m pretty
it’s a common mistake
... look closer
to see this disease
the rot that festers inside
You don’t know it
the only thing that makes me whole
and less all at once
forsaken by all decency
broken...battered...bruised
Could you even see me
because I never fit
that perfect circle you created
it leaves no room for me
I follow no rules
Don’t you worry ‘bout me
I feel no pain
no guilt
no pride
...I feel nothing at all
I embrace this sickness
... so pure
Does it make you hate me?
The sickness?
Or my embrace?
Are you like me?
Feed your sad desire
different time, different drug
we all die
just the same...
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