Masturbation

Hanging by a thread
Between slumber and rationality
In a dream... no, a fantasy
All of me, but a finger in reality

Antisocial

I don't have your skin of lies
The protective sheen of a fake smile
The clothing made of clichés
That you would never dare to mean

I'm an open wound
Ugly and real
I'll bleed for you, but I'm not smart enough
To be able to tell if you're worth it

I keep getting prodded
Scratched at and spit on
So I like to stay at home alone
Under the band-aid you call "antisocial"