There's a torn map of my body in the cupboards,
Stored away for someone to care and tape it back together.
There's a broken mirror that shows my shed tears,
Hidden away for something to find it and put t back together to try to once be perfect again.
There's a bloody wrist of mine that is under my sleeve, untreated and uncared for, for the person hopes that one day, someone will care, and tape her back together.

I dunno. It sucks. I know, sorry.