I stare at this form,
This cursed effeminate object.
I trace my fingers over soft skin,
Halting at the bumps on it.
The fingers gouge them out,
Mindlessly ripping the imperfections away.
I graze it again,
Only to extract more skin.
Pieces of flesh under my nails,
Small blood drops form in place of the bump.
I see my form beneath the shed layers.
My angelic, ****** form
Finally breathes the air of this world.
I pull more and more,
Once mere crumbs of flesh become chunks.
Slowly freeing my holiness
From the cage of flesh around me.
The blood runs down my face,
Now tattered and gone.
I stare at myself.