May 17, 2012
By , Orangevale, CA
Frustrated by the futility of my small, fruitless existence.
Desperately longing for my own warped metamorphosis,
to transform this pathetic excuse for a girl into a mere shade.
Whittle away my essence, scorn every notion of vitality
so that I may attain perfection-
so that I might fold into negative space
and fly beneath the scalding radar of my peers.
Cast off this flawed, ugly form,
flying high. Weightless. Clean...
I kneel before this porcelain altar,
whispering through tears my familiar prayer:
Let this body waste,
for ghosts cannot feel pain.

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