My Body Isn’t My Body

My body isn’t my body
It’s a rest stop for boys who need to lighten their load
So the gravity of their dirty kinks can fall on me
So they can breathe
It doesn’t matter if I can’t.

My body is the deserted scene of a drive-by shooting
The streetlights flickered and the assailant slipped into the shadows
He-saids, she-saids but I’m cleaning up the mess
I’m sewing myself up and I don’t even want to
It comes with the territory, I guess.

My body is a dead tree in the middle of town
Weightless and hollow but I can’t cut myself down
Boys carve their initials into my shell as if they have the fucking right to
And each time a wildfire promises an ending, someone puts it out
I am worn and wrinkled and fruitless
I am tired.

My body isn’t my body
My body isn’t my body isn’t my body isn’t mine
I pass mirrors and I see dust
I look at photographs but that girl is a stranger
I feel weight on my seat but I can promise you that I am empty
My body belongs to boys who took my innocence like taking candy from a baby
My body belongs to boys who swiped my virginity like a debit card
I’ve looked for the receipt but it’s nonrefundable
I’m used up and I’m dirty and I’m fucking repulsive.

My body isn’t my body isn’t my body isn’t my body isn’t mine.