Flesh prison

I cannot connect within, To this flesh prison called skin, This detachment; feeling unreal, My identity is stuck, so conceal, Trapped behind a glass window, Every motion around is going slow, I'm simply observing; nothing is clear, Feeling like a ghost, I'm not here, Things around me are blurry, out blacked, Like a movie, in it I act, Although, my life is the script, so complicated, Who am I? I'm so frustrated, A numbness, feeling no fear, Deeply searching for some cure, I cannot reach myself inside, And I don't know from what I hide, I try to find a glimpse of hope, in whatever can remain, And get rid of this unimaginable pain, To reconnect, healing to be whole, From whatever my BPD stole.