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Bulimic's Prayer of Contrition 2002

I want no skin, but flesh.
In skin, we hide.
In flesh, we live.
I want no skin, but flesh.
In skin, we pride.
In flesh, we strive.
Skin's a liar, ornamental bark.
I need the truth, the meaty shark.
I've lacked all the inner reserves,
Have bowed to an abomination of the undeserved.
Needed to create my own stern stance.
Struggled to avoid the long-thrown glance.
While abundantly from within I've danced.
Skin's a wrinkle, flesh remains.
Skin is scarred, flesh outlasts the pain.
I want no skin, but flesh.

Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright 2002

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