that what their eyes tell me.
The crowd scrutinizes this nobody
shapeless hands groping all over my body.
I can see the crust of immorality all over me.
Run, flee my mind screams
So I take shelter in my bathroom
and scrub the evil off me.
Is it off yet? Have I used enough soap?
It doesn't feel clean though.
Scrubbing once more,
I sense myself slipping off the tightrope