If you were To wear my skin You’d find pebbles In the bottom of my feet, Like limbs that fall asleep From sedentary sport. It’s crumbled potential energy That gravity pulls down, Like gemstones That can never shine. They cut sharp Under my feet and Kept me on my toes Until I stumbled onto a bed. You could feel the plastic bags Under my eyes, torn from the street, Ripping from utter stress. You could feel the spray paint can Stiff and cold and pink And a finger shaking, pressing down, Waiting to paint my eyes and nose. If you wore my skin, You would feel that my tears Were melting plastic, lava, But it feels oh so good To have color on my eyes and a reason to be cared. You’re going to have to seep out While everything else crawls in.