We have been misinformed and someone has to pay. Chin up, chest out. Pout. Your organs are writhing in filthy blood and screwed up guts, clenching closed against the system they are rejecting. Whatever you say now, deaf ears will take on board so as to better understand the torment your flesh is causing. Toxins churn through young vessels, a catalyst to deformities your eyes will avert for years to come. Nausea disorientates what should have been developing on the inside; it is repulsive. Alone with yourself, at last.
There is too much time to think when you are more inside your head than out. From in here, what the mirror says makes no difference, for the mind's eye is all that makes sense. No abuse of the exterior will heal it. Deprivation or mutilation, it makes no difference other than to frustrate everyone who see the wounds but not who climbs the walls behind them. And you fear, not being alone but being forgotten.
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