Unlike Body

Born defective Disgusted by his own form He carves at the skin not his own To shape one new Hands that wind separate from mind, Eyes that see not self, A voice buzzing, snickering, “this is wrong,” Is what is seen really there? Will I see this with anything but disgust? Will any sculpting satisfy? Will I ever accept this unlike body? Dispiteous perceptions In the black abysses Fingers which reach through the mind Influenced by outside avarice Emptiness, erosion of mind Vision perceives outré form Engulfed by ageless grievance Could he be wrong if told this his whole life? Will I see this with any feeling but disgust? I know no sculpting will satisfy. But will I ever accept this unlike body?