Flesh

I stumble into the bathroom.

I glance into the mirror.

What has become of me?

I touch and feel at once was.

The dripping becomes more prominent.

I look down.

Red is hard to get off rugs.

I look back up.

In the mirror, I pick at flaws that I can still see.

I'm fleshless and I still find imperfection.

I've ripped all that once was and I see now.

I will never be satisfied.