In shallow graves upon my skin,
A thousand seeds mock me.
I wage a hopeless war against them,
I destroy myself daily, taking things out in order to be whole.
The hours I’ve spent hurting myself seem endless,
They are certainly fruitless.
I’ve learned to love to hate myself
After years of people doing it for me.
The Scottish queen went mad over a blemish unseen,
Mine sent me mad a long time ago,
Yet they are visible to all.
Unable to stop, I punish myself, in hopes of becoming beautiful.