Will you love me when my body is made of scars?

When my eyes have lost their stars?

When the scale tells me I'm too fat?

Why I get completely destroyed by all that?

When my ugly face is faking a smile?

When I act like a weirdo and pretend life is worthwhile?

Will you still love me when I am destroyed?

If the answer is yes, I hope I am not being toyed.

I will love you when you grow brittle and old,

Because together these limping bodies can survive in a world so cold.