Looking in the mirror it's easy to see
imperfections and contrasts
plain old me
looking so innocent
and hating myself
How can I love me when I'm trapped in this Hell.
Caught in a whirlwind of destruction and hate
sucked up in all the reductions, procedures, plastic
it's fake.
Wanting to be pretty
Wanting to be loved
Needing a Father, Mother
Or that God up above.
Feeling so broken
So empty
So cruel
This perfect complexion
Needing perfection
All for the standard of a man
Making us feel like our love
is plastic
all we are
is plastic.

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