Break My Bones

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It’s time to grow a second skin


A chainmail cloak to keep me


From the wounding jabs


That flurry in


 


This self-willed exoskeleton


Will shield my naked nerves


As a buffer to protect me


From the too-sharp world


 


I wear my outrage outwardly


Apparel makes my fear apparent


Of the pokers and the prodders


Who would seek to pierce me


 


Yes, misanthropy decides my dress


Now this, my armour, will allow me


To progress in places


Occupied by bitter enemies


 


They will remember me


As one who could not easily be maimed


Who leaves their arrows blunted


And their battle planners shamed

Created: Mar 06, 2014

Tags: armor, poetry

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