This place is a landfill, spilling endless tongues, mouths that sting and spit empty threats. I know this isn’t how you saw your life; 19 and drowning in chemicals. When you say “I’m beautiful and I’m creative” I see behind those eyes and all I see is shame and lies. “o’ I am beautiful and I am creative” and your belief, it makes me shiver. You say you’re free but you’re stuck in a vice, scratching an itch from night to night. You say you’re free because it’s the only way that you can feel alive. And I’ll smile as I tell you so. I’ll be there at the end, when your dreams come falling down, and you will shiver.