All of this femininity

calling me to the vicinity

to be a subsidiary of their beauty.

The beauty isn't real

at least that's how I feel

more a mental image I remember to heal.

When I'm down and suicidal

and psychopathic like a tidal

wave just feeling primal.

Always trying to hide

the pain that doesn't subside

lingering in my tears I cry.

All of these angels swooping

their presence wooing, wooing

me to the point of booing

My self-esteem that's shrinking

forever because I'm constantly thinking

of what I could drink instead of what I'm drinking.