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…Strip me…

Strip me…

…of all the vanity that governs my morning routine

The need to pick at my face

judge my nose

scrutinize my lines around my eyes

and the fear of getting old.

Strip me…

…of the need to please

the fear that someone out there

remembers that time when I was less than kind

will weaponize my discourtesy against me.

Strip me…

Peel me…

Unwrap me…

Leave me bare…

Remove every ill you have found there.

I wish to be a ball of light.

Raw energy and power.

Searing eyes, burning skin.

Leaving scars of memories and wonder.

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… transformer…

Broken.

Fragmented. With every fall.

Yet she gets up. Sure to pick every piece and keep every memory.

Shards, broken in to splinters.

Pieces so minute, when she moves, it’s like liquid.

She must move.

Forward. Every piece, grinding against the other.

A high octave roaring. Announcing her presence.