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We wear layers--some we put on ourselves, some others put on us (without our knowledge). When these layers are taken off, we become ourselves.

 

He clothed me in layers

the magician from the meadows.

With each season he added more layers

that pulled me down like a drawn curtain.

 

He draped me in colorful layers

my very existence to mask.

And like a slave bounded,

my spirit for himself he purloined.

 

He wrapped me in heavy layers

that witch doctor from the flat land.

I stumbled and fell and gashed my knees

his mirth knew no end.

 

Then one day I arose from the sheaves

and tore off the layers piece by piece

till I stood naked in my true skin

and like a hummingbird flew from his nest.

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Birgitta~

I love the imagery painted by your words that expose a sad truth.  People unfortunately allow others to change and mold them into something they are not, but there are also those individuals in our lives that encourage us to be who we truly are.  Beautiful!  Keep writing!

~Kylie

Thank you Kylie.  Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Kylie Ferrell said:

Birgitta~

I love the imagery painted by your words that expose a sad truth.  People unfortunately allow others to change and mold them into something they are not, but there are also those individuals in our lives that encourage us to be who we truly are.  Beautiful!  Keep writing!

~Kylie

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