Authenticity

I feel oh so exoskeleton

And comfortable in my own skin,

Yet too out of touch.

Molting slower than honey,

Purest of sugarcane cavity of my heart’s cadaver

I shed twice enough to exceed desires.

Yet to be so bare

And to sit so pretty as the coveted rind,

I have minted vials of venom

From each and every queen cobra I could possibly find.

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