saying it makes my skin tingle
the back of my throat burns
bile comes shooting from the pit
of my stomach, till my mouth is bitter

I hate every inch of this body
and this mind that's too ticklish
it could pop, like a bubble
but stronger than a rock

all this haughty facade
is easily brittle, the blisters
seeping through my soul
and I bleed, an immortal

I work in progress-
but I am marked red,
unwanted by the gods
and rejected by the devil