I like how society relies on other people's perspectives and other's bodies,
I guess that is why I'm not perfect because I am broken.
My wrists are slit with guilt.
Demons wrapping themselves around my neck,
Trying to choke out my last breath,
But all I do is smile.
Because the only thing worse than a demon is a person.
They see one glimpse of your body that they so much wanted to see.
Fearful, they retreat back,
Hate and grim words that you say to yourself before,
You now spew towards them.
This world is just as broken as me.
My wrists grinding themselves into reality because we are each other's demons.
Just before I choke you to death,
I will choke myself first.