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.

If I'm loud and sound proud,

I'll take over in no time,

and that's the very reason:

my real self is a crime. 

I change the clothes in my closet.