Embarassing Fingers and Thoughts

I have no will over my hands,

As each appendage leaves to tear into the leather of my skin.

A mind of its own, my hand does have,

Leading me blindly.

Tear the skin from my finger to my elbow clean,

For no sake of my own.

I see my beautiful little naked bones,

But no will can stop my fingers from tearing,

And tearing,

and tearing.

They embarrass me,

Showing my bones to the world,

Only seen by my iris.

Softness washes my hands,

Paying no mind to my bones.

I see that I am a bloodied mess

Of bones and skin,

Covered by the softness I did not ask for.

What I would do for you, softness

If I could will for me,

I would will for you.