Bleeding Heart

Getting high in her bedroom
Up till the late hours of the night
With a box cutter knife, perfecting her art

Another uneventful day in her uninspired life
Now spent carving into her left thigh
The geometry of a heart

Devoid of purpose
Without a sense of direction
Spiraling, gravitating
Towards a blackhole of affection

Practicing her runway walk before the mirror
Modeling her bleeding heart
With nowhere else to turn
Nowhere to go

Let the hushed whispers start

Ready for public consumption
The hurts her adoring fans will appreciate
For the whole wide world to see

Belly button shirts and tight miniskirts
To showcase her latest masterpiece
Along a runway of insecurity

Spiraling, gravitating
Towards a blackhole of affection
Devoid of purpose
Without a sense of direction

Nowhere to run and hide
No longer can the pain be contained
As it cuts its way out from inside

Too little too late in escaping her fate
She's destined to be

A supermodel of mediocrity