Comfortable Skin

when does my skin
become comfortable?
I’ve tried skinny…
I’ve tried fat…
I’ve tried witty…
I’ve tried bland…
None so far fit right,
They were often either
too big,
too smart,
or too tight.
So I kept shedding each new skin,
one after the other,
hoping to find a perfect fit,
seems I’ll keep searching
since I still haven’t found “it” !
Now very few skins are left out there,
that I didn’t try,
At this rate,
I might after all,
get to them all
right before I die.

walk a mile they say
in our shoes
before you try
to tear us down
for amusement,
then see if it’s fun.
So I try to walk,
but all I can do is run.
I run from the ridicule,
I run from the pain,
I run from everything
when life starts to rain.

My parade was supposed to be happy,
it was supposed to be dry,
it was going to be shiny and pink
with children’s laughter echoing
in the background of my
Pollyanna meets Cinderella and J. Crew ride!
When did my life become this stage.
cold and devoid of substance, of emotions?
When did it take the turn
that lead me askew?
When did it make my own skin
feel itchy, uncomfortable and blue?
When did my skin rot?
When did it stop being fresh and new?
When did it make the list
of things I now need to unglue?

Just because Eve had a pet snake
doesn’t mean I should become one too!
don’t want to be a snake.
don’t want to keep shedding my skins.
I want my old skin back,
with my scars and my burns to show I was there.
My old skin was comfortable,
I could bend and stretch it any way I pleased.
It’s what I’ve always turned to,
to make sure I don’t change masks
whenever I feel a hint of unease.
My old skin, is my friend,
She’s what I will always need,
to make sure it’s still me I see,
when giant mirrors appear in front of me.

Although new skins seem to be
the new way to go in these tricky times,
my good old skin is what will keep me
safe, sane and grounded,
in these stressful and dark hours, among lies.

In this ever-changing & faced-paced modern day and age,
Not much is left to trust.
But you can depend on an old skin
to stand by you always,
even when you’re covered in
blood, mud or dust.

So let the modern people
shed their skins,
poke and prod them with
tiny and sharp knives.
let them stretch their poor skins,
until their emotions no longer fit within
let them buy new shells for themselves,
like they buy bags made of crocodile skin.
I’ll take my old skin back,
because I remember
how it was much more comfortable to be in.
My old skin with all my scars and burns,
was the only one I was ever comfortable in.
In this scary & imperfect Brave New World
the only one I didn’t run from screaming,
was my burnt and scarred, imperfect old skin.
Now that skin, was a comfortable skin.