Nights spent pulling away pieces of my skin remind me of trimming fabric from unwanted articals of clothing

My exterior does not define me
But I despise what's underneath

Maybe if I peel back far enough
And glare at the bare contents of my being
I'll see something worth saving

Thrifting, and scrapbooking my flaws

I do not enjoy this
I do not want to be this
These torn up jeans
This torn up soul

So I scratch off the scabs from every wound
Reopening my problems, exposing them to my ever changing mind

This scar stings my eyes the way the sun used to when I was a child

This scar has been there since I was a child

I believe that thought is called an epiphany
But I never wanted to realize these things about myself
So I throw them out
Leaving me hollow

Maybe something or someone can fill the cavity I myself carved from my chest

Maybe nothing and no one ever will

It's hard to tell

I feel nothing

I am nothing