Piece Of S**t.

My frustrated feelings... about myself.

Trying on clothes is like going to the dentist.
Pulling teeth actually.
Every size, too small.
My shoulders, too big.
My stomach, too large.
And, I'm faced with the truth, I'm built with nothing but fat.
A little pathetic in there and stupidity makes up over half of my brain.
I'm not only alone, but big and stupid and fat.
And now, the challenge to shove food down my throat is becoming even harder as the days progress.
And, the more I cut, the sadder I get.
Why does it feel so hard to be alive all the time?
My heart is so fragile and broken, but never am I good enough to be heard.
Like a beggar on the streets
I am nothing, nobody special, nobody worth knowing.
And it get's worse as the silence fills my ears.
I fall behind the crowd.
I'm not good enough, nor will I ever be.
Then I cut once more, just because the pants don't fit.
Through the blood and tears, I've realized i'm nothing but a piece of trash.
A Piece Of S**t.