Things started to get hard for you baby, you became a problem to be solved, you were set on fire and thrown around and burned out now they’re clutching your ashes and sighing over your enigma, they read your diary and they put your in shoes you hadn’t even seen let alone owned they took pictures of you and made you sadder and thinner, they turned you into a deer, they turned you into Bambi and laughed when you tried to walk, harder when you fell and the boys, oh the boys, they love you now that you’re broken they adore you now you’ve lost yourself and your footing they want your body and your breasts and your hips but more your mind is a chest cavity that got pulled apart in war and you’re hollowed out like an easter egg and now baby, they want to live in you, make a home out of the place where your aspirations were, put preachers in your spaces, put sex in your spaces, put questions in your spaces because you are an animated doll, you’re sad like cancer, deflated and heaped up, you’re diabetic sugar the kind that doesn’t taste quite right you’re looked at and torn up and looking for ways to kill your lungs and your liver and they’ll cradle you in their arms, or they’ll see you across the street leaning against a lightpole, arms dragged around yourself, shaking in the breeze and they’ll say 'that girl, she's sad and she's so beautiful.' but you are destruction, you are an avalanche, you are freak weather and burned out trees there is nothing beautiful about the sad in you, there is nothing lovely about the hollow