Either you love me
or you hate me
or you love me first
to hate me as well

Because the bullies were right
there’s something wrong with me
I’m fucked in the head
in the blood
in the soul
in the heart

A walking skinny mess
immune to happiness
constantly falling in the deepest,
darkest,
coldest,
cracks of decadence

Pick me up the floor and dust me
put my pieces back together
or try
and while you are at it, answer this:
“why did God make me a jigsaw of thousands of pieces that won’t fucking match?”