My skin is soft, tumbled by the sands of Lake Superior from which my frail body was birthed
Into the hands of a couple of twenty-somethings lost in the maze of life
Nine to five jobs as dead ends and
happiness together as the end they’ll never reach
My bleached pigtails woven with strands of golden angel hair
sitting atop my head like the horns of the devil –
A walking contradiction
So much to tell the world but
no voice to say it.
PB & Js washed down with milk;
Innocent truths washed down with the lies of the world until
The lies were all I could taste and
I thought they filled me up but I
was still hungry so I ate leather bound books like
bacon for breakfast
trying to find the recipe for happiness
until the books became my best friends –
they still understand me more than
I’ll ever understand myself.
I was born curious and skeptical
but my voice was silenced by the
metaphorical duct tape stuck over my mouth by
my hands bound behind my back with ropes woven in fear;
Until I broke loose, shattered from the inside out
and here I am now,
glueing myself back together with
happiness and freedom;
painting over the cracks in my skin and
looking at this kaleidoscope of a world through
stained glass eyes;
letting my voice be heard because I’ve been silenced for so long.
My skin is soft, tumbled by the sands of
from which my strong body was
into tough hands; my hands.
My hair woven by flowers meeting paint palettes that join reality
to create the masterpiece that is my mind.
I’m cracked but I’m not broken,
and I’ve learned to dream and
my dreams will take me farther than the lies of the world ever could.
My skin is soft, but my soul is unbreakable.