The clothes I wore rubbed their artificiality on me.
The people who touched, touched only my skin, oblivion to the much more inside.
The embellishments on my body did no more or no less than just being there.
I run, I run away from this world that judges the colour and texture of my skin,
the size and shape of my body;
the world that slows the blood in my veins and
assumes me for what I am not.
Boldly wearing only my thoughts, I lie naked,
for being naked is the only purest way of being myself.
And thoughts are my only embellishments.
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