People.

The room is cursed, possessed
Of divine or otherwise
Littered by the fragments, torn
Off the body every night
You leave every day and the people take in
The parts of your body you're willing to show
And return and tear
At your own skin
Yes, every night I long
To tear my skin off
The desire comes from underneath my follicles
The people gawk-
The people, bah!
Can we call them that?
Is that fair on them?
Is that fair on us?
The people gawk at the patches bare
They're the patches I long to tear off
Tainted by a lecherous stare
I spend so long scraping them off
With razor wire
With knives of fire
The weapons I pull out of my own head
The weapons I know that will soon make me dead
But will they kill me?
Or is removing them the thing that will eventually
Tear me apart and destroy me?
I might be me
I might be you
I might be someone else all through
I might even be happy with what I would be
But after I've flogged myself to death
And risen like a phoenix
There'd be no more weapons to use
They'd all be pointed at me
After I always had them pointed at you
People? People!
You bastards
I'm through