Loosing a Name

I hate my name.

Six cold letters that envisions myself so well,

Wrapping every curve of my body,

Tracing every line of my face.

It feels like a violation.

Yet, there is no one to say no to but myself.

Someone came to me and bestowed this fucking curse,

Leaving me vacuum sealed in a skin that always burns.

Leaving.

Wanting.

Needing.

Two syllables that create a person,

Two syllables that create me. 

Two syllables that leave me facing forward towards a mirror and wondering,

Who the fuck I am?

How can I look like letters?

I’ll try on different skins.

And become someone else.

But nothing suits me quiet as sweetly as my name.