themortalcure

You know how to affect me You make me hate myself I want to put on pounds of make-up I want to make myself throw-up I want to be ribs showing through skin I want to be beautiful, to be thin Food will never pass these lips As I crave for yours to kiss And when I'm only seconds from death I'll ask Am I pretty yet?

if ever a bit discouraged remember we're all made with worlds inside and collision though often unavoidable need not be unenjoyable it's a matter-of-fact fiction: heads wrapped up in hearts wrapped up in arms outstretched and waiting so how long can you really stay a stranger when it all adds up to two too tired of alone and everything entailed with haunting themes recurring and pauses where our shouts should be