Pretty is Bad

Cold blade of steel
Against my soft skin
The voice of the wind
Wavering in
Through the open window
And to the white sink
Saying “pretty is bad
It makes the boys think.”

The mirror’s turned out
I divert my wide eyes
One hand in my hair
Tears but no cries
I push the blade harder
Grip the stern steel
Pretty is bad
It makes the boys feel

Turn the point in
Drag the pain down
A thin splitting line
From the eye to the frown
The spirit inside
Continues to haunt
Pretty is bad
It makes the boys want

And so the blood falls
A decor on the pale
Begin yet again
And again, do not fail
Tear the tapestry
Make the cheeks burn
For pretty is bad
It makes the boys yearn

Now turn the mirror back
And see what you’ve done
The red on your face
And fingers and thumbs
The drips falling slower
Painting the sink
See? Pretty is bad
It makes the boys drink

Gashes wide open
Gaping the bone
Ugly, ugly, ugly
Tattered and lone
But a smile on my lips
The knife is exempted
Now that I am destroyed
The boys can’t be tempted

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