Lose Your Life

this new skin

this new skin
this new skin
this new skin
that I'm in
will take some adjusting,
I suppose.

But I did not ask
for this new skin;
I did not willingly
shed the old skin;
it was ripped off me
as I cried next to
your lifeless body
on the living room floor.

With each tear,
with each touch
of your hand,
feeling it grow
colder and colder,
life as I knew it
was ending.
Death likes to take
sanity along with it,
and skin - involuntarily.

I am not living
my life anymore.
I am living in
a new skin.
A skin with the
absence of my
faith, hope, and love
(as I knew them).
These were ripped
off in death.

this new skin
this new skin
this new skin
that I'm in
is not enjoyable,
but in what other
skin will I live?

This is my fate.