Flick

Each flick of the wrist unleashes a world of wonder,
And each river draws its fate on the snow...
Things will get better, I'm told. No proof.
But all I do know is my wasted youth
Will pave the pathway to nowhere,
A cemetery, a party of bones..
Maybe then I'll be skinny...
Maybe then I'll be thin..
And maybe then he will love me
Just like I care for him.
Each flick of the wrist splits unnecessary skin,
And each river carves away more hurt,
More reminders of flaws.
Ironic how each flick of the wrist carves more
Imperfections into an imperfect skin,
And each flick should erase these carvings..
But there's no god anymore,
And before he left he cursed me.
And it seems like no amount of blood pouring
Could carve my body to be good enough,
Thin enough or my mind sharp enough,
My heart strong enough
To be good enough
For him.