since i was young i was taught to please, taught to hold the flames in my gums and let them burn my flesh for the sake of others
the words i have eaten rise like flames in my throat, scorching every bite i take like it was my fault
the charred teeth make it hard to eat so i stopped (it did wonders for my figure) (at least, that's what they said)
the root of my teeth turns green with rot, until it's indistinguishable from the bile in the sink their opinions served to me on a silver platter, red and pulsing organs matching the scarlet scars on my wrist and in my mouth
this life was given to me, this heirloom passed down, so everyone gets to feel the weight of wanting to be needed and needing to be wanted
when the opinions go uneaten (i'm full on my own) the heart goes unbeaten (why should i help you) the response unsweetened (you're not helping) and the meat reacts (violently)
so the scars are ignored, the burning mouth and charred teeth unnoticed.