Flesh Colored Clay

Rad Gal

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This is where I go when my mind starts racing.
I race to the top
But it’s not for the view.

I close my eyes
And I open my chest.
Cold air stinging my throat and lungs
I feel my body melt
But not from heat.

The temperature is well below freezing
And here I stand
A melting clay sculpture
For no one to see
But I do it for me.

My mind is open
The lid twisted off my skull
And out like bats from a cave
My worries and fears
Sorrows and shames
They fly, soar, away, away.
But I’m still left there.

A melting pile of frozen flesh-colored clay
And in my state of not being,
I am.
My most true self.

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