D E N T S

If anything made me what I am,
It is these dents I came by in the past,
You can't make out if I have them now,
Because I have concealed it...

But lately they've been trying to resurface,
these dents, they wanna show,
They don't want anything from me,
but I believe they wanna know,
If I showed you what's in there,
all these uneven bumps on me,
Would everything be what it's like?

It frightens me to be honest,
If you'll hate the discoloration,
If you'll hate the blemish,
If you'll loathe the creature I become,

I hate how it provokes me,
I hate how suddenly everything looks messy,
I hate it how I feel like I bleed black,
I hate it how my dents are eating me up.