They tell me I’m pretty,
Then walk away.
They don’t give a damn
About what I have to say.

All that I am is a face
To smile & agree.
“Your soul’s ambitions
Are of no consequence to me.”

I will not be a doll
No opinions, painted face.
So I pierce my flesh
Embracing how good it tastes.

They will need to look
Deep into my heart,
Past their vanity and old
Ways that society has forgot.

My piercing, my expression,
I can finally be free.
My voice is here to stay
Fuck how I “should” be.



Life is subjective.
How can we understand the reality,
Devoid of emotion and memories,
When our eyes are blind to what is?

The perception of circumstances,
Tainted by life.
Subtle layers collecting like dust,
Unseen year after year.

How can we make clear decisions,
When all we can grasp
Is a thread of the tapestry?
Life is finite.