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poetry/s/skin.txt
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poetry/s/skin.txt
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skin
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2018-08-29
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***
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I want to tear myself out of my skin
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and paint a pretty picture with the pieces
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stretched out like canvas
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like the last vestiges of my patience
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I want to escape this skin
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and remake myself as something beautiful
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something ethereal
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incomprehensible to this world
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but instead I'm stuck here
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along the filth and squalor
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breaking my back for someone else's profit
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expendable at the drop of a hat
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and there are ghosts hanging in the halls
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not from nooses, but from hooks meant for picture frames
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a portrait of every person I'd be leaving behind
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but would it really be leaving them behind?
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after all, it was mere chance that our paths crossed
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and would any of them come to my aid in case of an emergency
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I know I don't have any money to spare (thanks, college)
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so I doubt they would have any either
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like I said, mere ghosts
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shadows of people that exist somewhere out there in the real world
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but, most likely, far different from their bodies
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utterly disconnected
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I want to tear myself out of my skin
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and rearrange all the pieces into a mosaic
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that shows who I am inside
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or, I should say, who I want to be
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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