The skin is old, Old as the hills

Older than time, Won’t let go

But no face lifts, No surgery

No peeling it off physically

Though… it’s kind of like that.

Old skin, saturated with old things

Underserved guilt

Toxic shame

Embedded in the cells

Sealing in the grey

But now it’s time to slough the leperous skin

That no-one seems to see but me.

Old skin is the old ways

Old habits, old attitudes

Brought up with the negative

Programmed to live in the shadows

Time to shed old skin

And in its place

A brand new coat of flesh

Snuggled, cosy, comfy, clean

Like after a hot bath

The chameleon slips from the jacket

Hurt skin needs to go

And needs the complexion of her baby self.

She can have the skin of a new born and start again

Feeling untainted, undamaged, pure, good

But the old skin was comfortable in a sinister kind of way.


Sunscreen can’t stop the sun attacking this old skin

Can’t heal the network of sores

That built up over the years

What-iffing won’t make it better

There’s no bandage for this

No ointment, no cream

No miracle cure

Except to be like a chameleon

Let the skin fall away

Unbutton the pain

And start to live.

5 thoughts on “Chameleon”

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