Bruises on My Complexion
I do this thing,
The thing where I care what everybody thinks.
I'm a robot of society set out to destroy my own future.
I can't tell you how many times I've looked back
and said "that could of been me".
Yet I never seem to change my actions.
I tell myself that I am wrong.
That everyone can be happy, for awhile I seem to be doing better.
Then I am back at it again.
A robot of society set out to destroy my own future.
I wish body image didn't affect me.
I wish money didn't affect me.
I could be happy, yet I deliberately sabotage every chance I get.
I can not continue to plead victim to my own crimes.
It's a cycle that never seems to end.
I dance with the devil
But continue to ask "where is God",
As if it is he whose abandoned me and not the other way around.
I excuse my behavior and I am wrong.
I have hurt many in an attempt to be what everyone else seems to be
I could be happy. I could be the girl with the brass ring.
But I ask why there are bruises on my complexion
as if I didn't put them there myself.
A robot of society
But I built myself.
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