Like a snake peeling off old skin

A casing it’s no longer in

We grow uncomfortable

And lose our sparkle

We run and hide

Go off our food and pull aside

Our gaze clouds over

Our futures blur


We grow defensive and skittish

Crave humidity to mask our dryness

Seek the rough, not just the smooth

Itch to break off the old, reveal the new

The change in us others doubt

Still delicately exposed, we venture out

Shedding the only skin we have ever known

A surprising sign that we have grown.

© Michelle Sherlock 14/09/2014



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