Constant battles,
Constant free-fall flying against the wind and the rain and the elements of time
All waging war against the one item on the shelf that won't sell
The body of a mindless girl
Says, what kind of mind, doesn't mind not existing?
And so it becomes less
See it, her life finds no solace in consistency but in paradoxical existence
And the steady growth of outward lies and inward hate tear open any scab created by half-a-penny ignorance
For the foggy days give her heart a break
When her eyes need not look upon her hands
The ugliest of ugly things, for what they've done and how quickly they've shed
So that it spreads
And spreads
And spreads
And every time she meets a doctor
She asks,
"Have they discovered a cure for cancer yet?"