Flesh

If my flesh could fall away and leave me with just bones, I may be happy and better off.
The wrench that twists inside my stomach is a constant reminder of my failures and lost dreams.
That is not saying I'd be better off dead. No. Quite the contrary.
I just may be better off with a fresh suit of skin.
A sort of blank slate.
My knees are scarred from years of crawling.
I'm tired now.
Must recharge.