If I did not have to feel
I would like to peel
All my skin
Shed
As would a snake
Without to break

If I did not have to feel
A knife made of steel
Would slice through my flesh
Meat so fresh
How it would taste
Nothing would go to waste

In the end
It is my own
Nobody must condone
I shall do it myself
Getting undone

Maybe it will be
Well done
Though I prefer
rare