poem bc im depressed agn

Flesh

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Why is it that I feel this pain,
Can feel the skin melting from my face?
Why is it that it burns like acid rain,
Leaving nothing but an empty space?

I reach up to peel back the lies,
To tear away my joyful sin,
I know better; there should be no joy in my eyes,
And I know there is nothing within.

Ripping at my skin, I wince at the feel of flesh,
Blood running down in shiny waves,
As I tear, I feel I am not fresh,
And I wonder if my hate will follow me to the grave.

Going further, I remove what's left of my chest,
Watching as the skin falls like water from a spring,
Fat pours out, as does the rest,
And my sheer agony makes me sing.

Finally, I am nothing but meat,
Though I feel no different than I have,
The release of death is nowhere near sweet,
So I forfeit.