Skin.

A Poem by Peggy Lea

A bit different, I must confess. Years old.

I feel tremendously uninterested and miserable about my existence. There is not much, if anything, that I can do to make myself feel better about life. My hobbies are becoming a bore. Mundane conversations with my family are driving me to the brink of mental insanity. My entire life I have been protected. Throughout my lifespan I have very few moments of true happiness. I feel like I am not allowed to live. I feel like I am in someone else’s skin. I have the need to peel off this unfamiliar skin that covers me.