Animals in My Skin

I can scribble patterns,

up and down my arms,

and let go of my emotions,

where the colors will take over,

breathe in the fumes,

a feel freer than before,

and let the animals out,

from the skin so deep below.

.

They were of ink,

and now of fur,

clawing through to the surface,

and making me bleed,

but not in pain,

just in relief,

for this is me,

from so deep below.

.

Wild and red,

dripping and frothing,

but so civil inside,

yet menacing eyes,

that mean nothing to me,

and everything to you,

alone and free,

until we meet our pack.

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Faith in the Voices

Let your mind,

tell you stories,

tales of fears,

ingrained in your head.

.

Put that head to bed,

and ease off,

to that place where they sing.

.

They sing the hymns,

and they see their fears,

and are not afraid,

of what lies in the mirrors.

.

Those mirrors are there,

for you to stare,

at the fears that lurk behind you.

They hold.

.

But as glass,

can be shattered,

so can the mirrors,

with the singing,

if the singing were so loud.

.

Then,

those fears,

faced with you, 

and that is when they die.

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