Under The Skin
written by: Carrie Magness Radna
@cmrboxwoodstar1
Malaise is colored in many shades.
Before dawn, my eyes dart open with anticipation,
wondering how to set my blues to purple, or a simple gray—
a sunrise walk might do me good.
Can we comb out foreign objects from under the skin?
Our organs hold every type of emotion
sometimes for decades. 2020 is a rough one—
Our fascinators are made of face masks.
I try to search for people’s eyes when I’m out
(I’m hardly out; it’s hard to be out now)
but I like to disappear,
without being another irritant
others have to deal with.
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