Into my skin I engraved a heart,
A lingering reminder, despite the years we've spent apart.

With every living breath, I beg for death.

When you're willing to accept my flaws, I'll be willing to accept yours.

Don't set yourself limits - they're so limited.

I am cool...just my own definition of it.

I want to be stereotyped as an individual.

Why do their well chosen words hurt me more than the cuts and bruises I inflict upon myself?

I'm everything you told me to be - so why do I feel so incomplete?