Existent

Stains

With every faint breath,

another hair will rise,

upon my hairless skin,

fear insights

an inflicted amount of

growth

of anything I

try to get rid of

through sharpest means,

a razor, 

even fire 

 to burn away this dirt

that still covers me whole

in which I could never wash away

with years of hot, cold, water 

warm, none

so sit forever 

in what he's made me become

and the blood that drowns my hands

no person could ever see

though every night

I wake up crying

for what he's done to me.