Oct 17, 2012
Social Heave
I am sitting on the floor in a bathroom stall, trying to read the writing on the cold cement wall my hands clutching the side I've given up hope I just want to be beautiful, but beautiful burns my throat. It's hard to think even harder to breath Have you ever been trapped in your mind? I am, and I just want to leave. But it's holding me against my will, Society's perfect ply Because maybe when I'm beautiful, well it may be more pretty just to die.