This body is a rental with claw marks
I've worn it as a costume
A form of armour
A question I'm too tired to answer
They keep handing me mirrors
Like I'm supposed to say 'thank you'
But I know what lives beneath my ribs
A storm
A voice that never learned quiet
Some days
I move like this second hand skin
Wasn't stitched from other people's expectations
Other days
I send out smoke signals
From a war I didn't start
Still
I show up
Bruised
Blistered