Im sick

I have been
for a long time
My stomach
Has never felt right

My mind
has never settled
My nerves
Always jumbled

In sore heaps
My bones lie dry
Beneath a tarp
Of scarred skin

Maybe sick is
the wrong word

Im wrong

Everything about me
Falls into the wrong place
Nothing matches up
On my disorganized face

Im physically uncomfortable
In my own skin
I want to rip it off
And regrow it again

Maybe the problem
Is in who ive made myself
Maybe i dislike
What ive portraited to everyone else

So maybe i should try
And take apart my mind
And regrow my very being
From my center. From inside.