My body's a temple they say 
They tell me to worship it 
as if my body was a goddess 
But how can I treat my body like a temple 
If it's not even my home
How can I treat it like a goddess 
If his fingerprints are stained on the walls
Where he shattered windows 
Replaces the tiles for his own comfort 
My body isn't a temple 
It's not a goddess 
It's a broken house 
Where he moved in 
To live forever in my thoughts 
To break my walls when I feel strong 
He is the homeowner of my temple
I am weak
||temples and goddess’||

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