Long black hair, electric blue or hot pink at the tips.
Empty eyes outlined in thick black eyeliner.
Ripped skinny jeans & motorcycle jacket with lots of zippers.
These are the Pretty Dead Boys we love.

We want to be the light that brightens their dark souls.
We want kiss the razor cuts on their wrists.

Pretty Dead Boys glow with an immortal fire,
but we don’t dare touch them because we’d die of frostbite.

We write their names on our skin with Sharpie markers.
It lasts for awhile, but is eventually washed away by our tears.

We lose weight & start wearing black clothes.
Our hearts break & then vanish completely.

One day we look in the mirror & gasp because we can hardly recognize ourselves.
Somewhere along the way, our pain has transformed us into Pretty Dead Girls.