I change the clothes in my closet
when the old ones don't get looks. Complete and utter erasure of the previous words in the book. I stay locked here inside of my own desolate small nook. Beauty's not in the eye of the beholder, if you don't touch me on the shoulder. I change the chapters inside me, when the old book's read too hard. I'm frantic, and I get panicked, when you take my place of charge. This is the new place in society that I myself have now carved, and that's the reason why I have broken my old self at large. Mind you this is unconscious, I find myself obnoxious. Just another fox, breathing oxygen I breathe it right, right inside and take this place of charge. Control the others, here until I have nothing more to hide, for if the words never replaced, the one way out's suicide. And this place is where I can temporarily reside. Without my little, tiny ego collapsing inside. Who am I? This isn't a riddle. This is my one question. That other people answer every single second...