It starts with an itch beneath the skin,
silence breaking deep within.
No warning alarm, no dying hymns
just pressure building at the brim.

My past hangs heavy, rough and tight,
a suit of scale that dims the light.
But growth is cruel; it splits, it rips,
and leaves you naked to your tips.

I scrape along the jagged stone,
each twist a crack, each breath my own.
rendering a new me with changes inside,
the façade I wore, my pains died.

While I'm raw in this new guise,
I'm rising with sharper, clearer eyes.
For loss is gain when change begins,
like a serpent I'm freed from dying within.