What bothers me is the geography of my skin,
Doesn't matter, and yet,
People see and they mumble,
Then I hear and I grumble.
So strange, yet so familiar,
It's the same and yet it changes,
It grows, it irritates me,
And yet it covers me whole.
Then, I feel every touch, every sensation,
I know when I grasp, I hurt, I motion,
I feel the earth and it's rotation,
I touch, you're real, not my imagination.
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