you painly model my mind
with images and the left out words.
its sad when you cant stand
to touch your self;
disgust is stronger then words
more vulger then hate
leaves a taste of acid
burning my self...
image
esteem
respect.
want to burn...
those who left me out
the images
myself.
and then you ask me why
i cant see a beautiful me?
ill ask you why
dont you want
to rip my clothes off?
untalented
I remember the squashed creavtivity
guess im just too original for you!
i remember the feelings of reject
feeling of failure.
How do you fail creativity?
it makes sense to me,
but not to you-
logically that says
im insane, not ok.
And all of this swirls in my head
i dont think i can be
anything right.