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.
Not newborn skin
, this.
Calloused, thick,
Barrier excludes blood
From heart of stone
Lest it beat and fulfill its function.
Stubborn film rejects sunshine,
Warmth,
Content to stagnate frozen
In primordial ooze
Lest the mess that lurks beneath
Be exposed, raw in its stench.
Your skin has kept emotions contained,
Given you a measure of control
Over the uncontrollable.
See here, the crown of thorns
Which pierces hearts of ice.
Take hold of the spear
Which alone penetrates
Thick skin.
Be melted.
Drip with awe.
And watch your dirty little secrets
Dry up and turn to dust
Before the Light of the World.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 