i’m getting bad again.
there’s no room under
my skin,
there’s too much of me
to be beautiful.
i’ll never fit into a box,
i’m not perfect enough.
i’m too much
of the wrong things
to be loved.of what value am i
if i want to cry
every time i look at myself?
i see excess
in every limb. i am a waste
of space, i should not be taking
up so much.
relapse // a.s.m
Silenticel 