I am nothing but a screwed up paper angel,
use scissors to shred up my wings,
use the blades to carve yourself a heart,
scribble your name across my wrists,
burn up this in(toxic)ating plastic life,
inhale the smouldering fumes
of our own misspent youth.
lie back,
slip in and out of consciousness.
we are
painful
we are
beautiful
we are
(im)perfect