I
Am a cracked shell.
My skin is old paper,
Grey,
Flaking,
Crumbling
As each day
Goes past.
Fingertips
Tinted scarlet,
My mind a chalky fusion
Of indigos and lilacs
That don't quite match.
Although
As the days go on,
My fragile form
Strengthens a little.
I laugh with my
Vibrant yellow
And baby blue
Friends for a while,
And my paper skin
Heals
Just a tiny bit
But it's good enough.
I walk out in the snow,
Holding my hands out
In front of me,
My hands camouflaged,
Matching the falling snowflakes,
And I revel,
Loving how my broken unusual
Complexion,
Can be so alike something so
Perfect and magic,
And once again,
I can feel myself repairing.
I am of fragile material,
Easy to damage,
But I am healing.
Just a little bit,
But that's good enough.
