Why should I care
If my useless parts hurt?
Why would It matter
If they fell off?
Why can’t I hurt them
If they are so wrong?
Why should I see a doctor
If they should rot?

In a way, I’m ashamed.
No one should have to see them,
Care for them.
Care for them like I never did.
They are dreadful,
Deformed, rotten, scarred.
Something so alien,
That I must rid myself of them.
They cursed me,
Cursed me to a life of deformity,
Self hate, disgust, pain.

By normal standards they’re useless.
They hurt, not even serving a function.
Barely aesthetic for a lover,
Completely foreign to me.
I hide them.
No one should have to bear witness
To this cursed form I reside in.
Free me from this flesh,
This broken, scarred frame.
Built wrong and improper.
With corrupt systems,
My crooked vessel fails.