NakedA Poem by parenthesesMy form, my skin, my only proof of original sin So warm, so thin, this fragile tomb I’m imprisoned in Why is it, I feel so pensive, revealed Perhaps it be fear, mortality so vividly clear It could be the shame, my existence so patently plain I shun it, with zeal as empty, unreal Oh to be clothed . . .in a design all my own Oh to be free . . .to the stars I might flee © 2016 parenthesesReviews
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Added on January 24, 2016Last Updated on January 24, 2016 Author
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