Today I’m wearing a baggy, long sleeve t-shirt; for the soul purpose as to hide within it.
To hide from the outside and in.
and beneath the creases and folds of polyester; I have skin.
Miles and miles of skin.
Skin that pulls so tightly around my body that I feel like it might choke me like an anaconda,
While exposing the flaws and faults of my body; drawing attention to what’s wrong with it.
But my skin, both soft and scarred; holds within the fragile and broken pieces of me.
My skin holds within its warm, fleshy embrace the fractured, broken, and stolen parts of my heart, body, and soul.
But even my skin, as plentiful as it is, can’t conceal the pain crawling and leaping through my veins, nor the ache in my heart.
Even my skin, as plentiful as it is, cannot contain the shards and remains of shattered glass in my chest.
Even my skin, as plentiful as it is, is too soft to protect me—
So soft it would tear right open and let my insides become my out:
And the terrors keeping my soul hostage would roam free…
Today I’m wearing a baggy, long sleeve t-shirt; for the soul purpose as to hide within it.
To hide from the outside and in.
And keep my insides in, and outside out.
But beneath the creases and folds of polyester: hide the scars I’ve left behind.