By
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It wasn’t the stranger in her skin but the skin she didn’t own; the mirror lied to her for years in countenance unknown. But when she learned her truest self was trapped beneath that skin, she stretched her soul and slipped it off, re-molted genuine.
It wasn’t the stranger in her skin
but the skin she didn’t own;
the mirror lied to her for years
in countenance unknown.
But when she learned her truest self
was trapped beneath that skin,
she stretched her soul and slipped it off,
re-molted genuine.
Just wonderful Mel!
And speaking of wonderful – how are YOU these days??
Oh , thank you for,asking! Things have been pretty rough, but they have to get better, right? :).
I’m so sorry to hear that. How can I best pray for you?
A delightful poem Melody!!!
Thanks Wendell!
Just lovely
Love these words, Melody.
I find that I’m ready to shed some of those old labels that have never truly belonged to me – is it age that I have to thank for that freedom??
Quite possibly. 🙂
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
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