That Poem I Made That One Time

cookied

If beauty is your perfect token
Why was my cookie cutter broken?

Fix my cookies chop their ends
So I can be just like my friends

Tie me down, fix me up
Give me words like yas and sup

Cut my cookies till they're right but don't expect me not to fight

Tell me to stop but I will not
Your cookie cutter blades are hot

Paint my face and do my hair
I did not ask this is not fair

I guess your cookies make me sick
My demons do not like lipstick

Creams all for my sleepless nights
Covering scars from voices fights

Cut my edges frost my dough
My insides are still poison though

I thought you wanted honesty?
You can't fix this burnt cookie