Thick Skin

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What were you thinking?
When you slammed your door and let your dishes pile up
When you shut out the world and submerged yourself in wax

You had an easy out, though at the time
it might have seemed like you were left in a boiling kettle.
Your sweet-smelling leaves were helpless to escape the fabric
holding you hostage.

Were you thinking at all?
When you skipped your third shower and let your tears
wash your face instead?
When you abandoned the things that made you happy?

Of course, you reply. I was thinking.
Thinking is what brought the mold to my skin.

Then scream and destroy what you can easily rebuild.
Let the bark on the trees around you rot with your pain,
they can regrow, their skin is tough enough.
Let yourself go measuredly, so you can live once you're done.

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