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...