My eyes stare
a soulless look
which I wish wasn't there

My heart throbs
My unsteady walk
to the beat of it

My body's wrong
yet everyone
calls it beautiful

you call me perfection
yet the definition
is my deepest fear of all

Perfection isn't a gift,
it's a curse
Perfection isn't good,
it's a nightmare
Perfection is subjective,
everyone defines it differently
so, for me to be perfection in everyone's eyes,
is a mess ever shifting

I'm just me
Emo little me
A waste of time, me
A waste of space, me
A burden on everyone's shoulders, me
evenly dispersed yet equally heavy, me
The figure in the shadows, me
The creature in the corner, me
Call it a sweet little thing, that's not me
Say it's a beloved member of the family, that can't be me
Say it's your friend, could I be?

Hopeless thoughts
Surrounded by strange friends
They poke fun at me
yet it's funny to me
I'm not a target
I'm unimportant
Yet they always say they care for me
What is this place
What the fuck, what the fuck
Why do they care
About the mess and muck
Why do they bother
To talk to this dumb fuck

My eyes stare
a soulless look
Yet the freaks don't seem to care

My heart throbs
My unsteady walk
What a strange little quirk

My body's wrong to me
Still everyone
calls it beautiful

You call me perfect
Is it defined differently
Then the purity I think it should be?
The purity I feel I'm not?