The Skin That Binds Me

I tear at my skin,
Because it holds me in
My skin is too tight
It’s my confinement
It’s a jail keeper,
And it’s choking me so I can die.
The razor is like the key
To the handcuffs
They undo the binds for a short time
And let me actually breathe.
It cuts the rope, trying to tie me down
And for a time I soar away
Until the world catches up,
And I’ve got to get back in my skin
I can almost hear it laughing,
As I crawl back inside.
The razor, too, is an addiction,
Because I always come back for those
Few blissful minutes of freedom
From my jail keeper,
Captor,
My skin.