My skin is a story with marks and lines
It makes me feel weary my face is like a
Galaxy with spotty freckle stars no
Sense of gravity even with the good the
Bad feels so much stronger my inner
Demons always win and in my mind
They saunter so many things that i've
Come to hate line my body and caress
My face i feel so frail and empty too like
A china tea cup with dried out glue i am
Made of porcelain cracking now and
Then it wears my down i am made of
Porcelain i look okay but i am breaking
Down over and over again over and
Over... stretches and patches corrupt
My flesh slowly eating away any
Confidence that's left i really wish i
Wouldn't let my appearance dictate how
Much i fret because they say what's
Inside is what really matters but i really
Can't seem to ignore the parts of me
That i abhor it makes me feel like i am
Weak and battered i am made of
Porcelain cracking now and then it
Wears my down i am made of porcelain
I look okay but i am breaking down over
And over again oh, over and over...