Why It Itch's

It is clean, it knows it is, it's still the waking nightmare of they the others when all they do is yell, it makes it shake even your eyes itch. My legs, I dig at nothing, it is not normal to excuse as to there judgements of hell. My face is Solomon in it's mirror, please keep it away. Still it in they of you inside of some lidless eyes, yes you do. Your judgements full and in it's demons run around inside your head so you make them mime you then teach me, it is to blind. My hair, even it itch's from you.