Their property.

Our pain.

Their body.

Our guilt

Their decisions.

Our hate.

Their gain.

We're insane.

We pretend that it's okay.

They create their own little gangs and their own little games.

And we're still the ones stuck with our own damn brains.

That's our only place.

We want to think we can at least have control there, but they're fucking with our emotions too.

Our mental patterns are screwed; twisting and turning until we're wrapped around their finger.

What the hell are we supposed to do?

We are their ring that announces they can create us into whatever.

A public symbolism that we let them change our endeavor.

What we want no longer matters.

We'll do whatever we need to just to please them, but it's still not enough.

They use other girls, too.

Not just us.

Why aren't we enough?

They don't know it's too damn tough.

We gave them our all, every ounce of our bodies and our mental flaws and now we're just left to be fucked up with our hopeless dreams.