Skin

The veil of my heart,

Is peeled off slowly.

In the middle of day and night,

With bones and bodies.

The silver in my eyes,

Is crumbled to dust.

Blinded by the shine,

Drove by ephemeral lust.

No, I don't have real tears,

And I'm laced with fake bruises.

Have infinite fears,

Is everything, but the truth.

By your slipping fingers,

My hands are stained.

While from the love they wither,

They turn blue with pain.

But as a woman, I've been told,

To learn to fight.

From the birth of my soul

To the disruption of my pride.

So, my eyes wrap the galaxy,

And the dust is brushed off.

Walking through the lightning,

My hands become my sword.

Because my skin is not a canvas

For scars and wounds,

But for stars and colors

And everything I'll win from you.