Every ugly, out of place vein.
Scattered emotions amuck my very brain.
You’re going to see hair, fat accumulated in places I never wished them to be.
Bags under my eyes.
Yellowed stains on my crooked teeth.
If you keep staring into these eyes.
You’ll see I’m made of imperfect pieces.
That I’m a mess. A word I so often use.
Cuts and bruises where love once was.
– Lemon Ghost