Really, I think you're quite funny.
But I do not understand the way you move.
How do you do it?
You wash your ember waves over a face
and suddenly I've never seen it before.
Bulging eyes, puckered lips,
Boiling blood drawn, bitten teeth---
it is an exorcism to rid one of you.
But you are essential? Somehow?
To being human?
If I were able, I would scratch my skin out.
Dig down deep with my chewed-up nails
to rip you out of my very being.
Because I can't do it. I won't.
I won't become a mere vessel for your habititation.
I will not be your mortal to possess.
Because how would I face myself in the mirror? After becoming the thing I so fear?
It's all I would see, really.
Some shattered glass draped
in the skin of a wounded animal.