By Arielle De Brock
I’ve grown numb to it
And each time you burn me with that candle, I stand still.
No matter how much gasoline you pour on me, disguising it as holy water, I don’t feel it.
No matter how long you leave me on fire, I’m not disturbed.
These scars are my shell;
My armor.
Once you’re burned, you’re burned for life.
No matter how much of this dead skin that flakes off, there will always be more,
Acting like an antibody.
Protecting me when I’m exposed—
So no matter how many times you drop me into a pit of lava, I won’t shed a tear.
I’ll get up and go home, living my life.

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