Armour
Some creatures are born with armour on;
What lucky souls.
Humans have to grow our own;
Piece by piece, day by day.
We forge each golden fragment from a moment of hurt
And tie them all together with our fears.
We cloak ourselves in war-paint,
And arm ourselves with words.
We hide inside our minds,
And lose ourselves in lines and notes.
We surround ourselves in admiring eyes,
But we are alone.
Who knew armour was so heavy?
Some creatures are not born with armour on;
Perhaps there is a reason.
Something is gone,
A trade has been made.
We have learnt to curl into our perfect ball,
But not how to come out.
