Isolation

Strand after strand, my fingers they tug;
the slipping of roots has become such a drug.

Immersed in my trance and pulling my glory,
I wonder if anyone has the same story.

Lashes torn out leaving naked my lids,
Hating myself for the shit I just did.

Not understanding why I'm so addicted,
to scratching and pulling, why I'm so afflicted.

My tears shine my cheeks,
For nights upon weeks,
I can't seem to sleep,
From cries and from weeps.

Painting my face with the colors of norm,
I once again dress in the mask that is worn,
The one that takes ugly and makes it transform,
From naked and ugly to gentle and warm.

Bald and mistaken for happy and brazen,
I smile and pretend that there's nothing to mend.
Maybe one day I will shake from this suffer,
Maybe 'til then I will pull just another...