Ripped pages lay scattered on the floor,
pictures of those you wish to be,
a collage of pain, a collage of a war,
and when you look into the mirror, we know what you see.
Models so thin, smiles so fake,
faces so plastic, lives so bleak,
with every camera flash, my heart does ache,
and the truth, no one does speak.
You think that's how you wanna be,
and all of the words are hurting you,
and i just wish that i could make you see,
that letting them get to you, is not the thing to do.
The tears roll down your cheeks in the still of the night,
hugging the porcelain with your finger down your throat,
looking into the mirror, "what a ridiculous sight."
and written to yourself in blood is the note.
'You hurt me once, you hurt me twice,
treated me like dust on an old shelf,
and now, i am paying the price,
and remember; sticks and stones may break my bones..but words might make me starve myself.'
