they all look so perfect.

it’s easy to point at my perfect face,
publicly labelled
a walking diagnosis.

mouths full of trash.
gossiping. fucking.

let’s stab each other
into damaged spines.
keep beheading one another.

yet it’s me
who makes the first page
of the local newspaper.

i will burn the pages.
i will burn your prayers.

who am i to believe?