If

Perfect

In every way,
In every shape and form
She's perfect as she lay,
To someone else alone in their dorm.

So much hate,
So much disdain,
At this rate,
Can't hide the pain.

She doesn't cut,
She knows better...

Than to leave evidence of her hate.

She lashes out,
Because she hates herself.
She continues this bout,
As if it's a plague written somewhere on a shelf.

Different is her rage,
Not at the world, no,
It is with herself these wars wage,
Each thought is a low blow.

She hides her shame,
And no one knows...

Because she doesn't want them to.

Her knife is her thoughts,
Her wounds lie in her past,
Her mind worked down to dots,
How long will this torture last?

Who do you hate?
She stares...

Knowing she can never answer.

But who does she hate?
She says it as kind as one can,
With so much distaste.
And it hits the person in the face like a pan.

Put me in a mirror,
She says...

I'll see the one I hate.