A Silhouette of Sensitivity

Choking on dark clouds,

The black glitter dust,

Words come out as a silent breath,

I’m an unnoticeable silhouette.

An anonymous figure,

A storm filled cloud,

I feel so much,

A highly sensitive fool,

Prone to little wounds,

That never heal.

Pins and needles,

Are hidden beneath my bones,

Sticks and stones,

Stored below,

My feet are bare,

Walking on fire coals.

Nothing but scars,

But my scars aren’t injuries,

They show that I’m human,

I let myself feel,

Feel everything,

To keep myself human to the core.

A silhouette of sensitivity,

But a human one at that.

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