Flesh, flesh, rotting flesh.
Look in that mirror to see the decay.
It's all wrong, so wrong.
Tits stitched on with sellotape.
It's all so fake.
A huge gap where something is missing.
A wound that cuts so deep I could scream.
Eyes sliding from my face.
To reveal a hidden place.
Sew up my tear ducts.
I don't want to cry anymore.
He. She. No. It's me.
A hole cuts through the centre of my corpse.
Nothing could sew it up again.
My mouth is sewn, my tongue is tied, my ears won't hear, my body is weak, weak, weak, WEAK.
Look at the flesh.
So much flesh.
Not enough flesh.
Sharp.
Painful.
Pointless.
Desiaesed.
Stop the bleeding and the weak.
Feel flesh.
I hate flesh.
I need flesh.
And the skin.
Wrong skin.
Wrong sack of meat.
Carcass.
She. No. Me.
Can't breathe.
So afraid.
I like flesh.
No more death.
Please.
No.
Why.
Stop.
Me.
Flesh.
I hate.
I hate.
Yes.
No.
Why though?
She.
He.
Me.
It.
It wants flesh.
It needs flesh.
It is flesh.
It hates flesh.
Flesh.
Flesh.
Flesh.
Drown it all in blood.
Pour out of the pours.
Don't speak until your throat is raw.
Fail.
Always fail.
Limbs fail.
Skill fails.
I fail.
Dead.
Dead.
Why?...