Precious, is the flesh that life denies.
Hearing only this heartbeat, time repeatedly serves the thoughts of freedom.
Questions arise for the existence of skin. A partition between souls.
Multiple emotions join forces, raising goose bumps, dilating pupils.
A dripping chill edges down as the layers are removed.
Cautiously the soul is bared.
Humble, is the heart for housing a soul.
There's disturbance on the faces of the moral passersby.
Their fluttered beats appeal to fingers within for warmth.
Only, they're just a cage; inanimate.
Without life they're fragile and useless.
Manufactured respectfully for appearance.
Sweet, is the mouth for speaking the truth.
When was the first time you heard someone say , "The truth will set you free?"
Lies unfold, entangled in the throats of hateful leaders.
A twelve year old girl puts them all in their place.
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