Tired of crying on frigid bathroom floors
I have reached out of my self-imposed shell
Deciding to open up these barred doors
That have me trapped in this personal hell
Amusing how simple a hurt to shelf
When you’ve stopped hearing the song of Death’s knell
When you’ve stopped distorting the view of yourself
As nothing but a body to please him
Start seeing your soul in and of itself
That waits for you with joy, so full to the brim
With love that sounds like your own personal hymn
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I need to repeat these words every time I go shopping for clothes. Those mirrors kill my self-esteem every time.