This skin I wear,
Is all I have to care and though I wish to shed,
This old frame,
It is something I must bear.

The new me is frighting,
But the old me has bared to much hate.
And I tired of it all.

The skin I wear,
Its been shed so many times its to tiring to even count,
So I stop my pouts,
And I live with the skin I was given to bear.

The old me is fading,
But the new skin that I wear,
Is not fitting on properly.

The puzzle will never be finished or fixed,
So I stop my pouts and worrying doubts.
And live with the skin that I remade.