what if

I took away my outermost layer of skin

that blemished crust that

armour that protects me taking all

those first hits, what a sacrificial screen it

is. What If I revealed the

liquid insides, soft veins and

weak blood, unspoken terrors and

undreamt dreams that hover above and below

and just beyond my realm of real and aware

that I can be star that I can really fly and

gravity is not a cloak I choose to wear

I would rather step up into the air and make

castles out of clouds and sit on the

hammok leafs of palm trees that look

into endless oceans. What if I could

be a philosopher that made ripples in the

air?

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