Grab it before you go.
Can't be seen without it.
Cover your shoulders, your neck and your face.
Stand tall, now. Peek through it.
No one sees the wounds, right?
Take a step. Feel secure.
Your cloak grazes against your body. Feel secure.
Your cloak is your armour, your story concocted, weaved and derived from your depths. Your unwhole abyss. Hide your unspoken fears. Feel secure.
As long as no one removes it, everything will be, as imagined. Everything will go as planned. Feel secure.
Oh, no! Not here! What's this? A chink in your armor. A hole in your cloak.
They can see you, the real you.
Do they know? Can they know?
The flaws in the fabric. The flaws in your story. Feel secure?
If they see this, then they see you---the real you. Feel secure?
What will they think? What will they say? What do they know? Feel secure?
Your are flawed. Your cloak is worn. It covers nothing. Feel secure?
The illusion of truth, the stories concocted, rehearsed and rehashed hold no weight. Feel secure?
No one is fooled. Everyone knows.
Everyone knows. Everyone knows.
Everyone sees you. The real you. Feel secure?
