Step into my Skin


Step into my skin
The scaly, leathery, half-baked
covering of my soul

Step into my skin
It doesn’t feel the snow.
It has long abandoned
all inane senses
as it outgrew the womb

Step into my skin
Probably then you would know
This moss,
did not grow
Sitting at home.

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy (Unsplash)

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