Vulnerable invulnerability

I like wearing long sleeves whether on sky or land,

when I'm lying on my bed or under the scorching sun,

even on crashing waters and there I drown

but sometimes – just sometimes– I'm tempted to pull them down.

Scars, even if unseen, does not mean gone.

The way unfeeling is not hurting less

and healed is different from discharged, 

(it is still needing a great deal of rest).

Sometimes patients wear hospital gowns,

sometimes their new shirt, sleek and hip,

sometimes they're doctors. 

But in this blind world,

as long as you're clothed they call you fine.

if you're bleeding inside, you're strong.

if you can run with the crowd, you're brave.

even if you crawl once you're alone. 

In this deaf world, silent cries are whispers of the mute.

call for help of standing feet are unanswered.

screaming on your own built soundproof walls are futile.

Having a cracked voice is being bold

— you have to lose them first. 

Don't worry, this is also a pretentious world,

always hiding on defensive facades,

romanticizing battling hurricanes,

praising candleholders in the dark,

even if it can offer light,

even if you get out barely alive. 

As long as your eyes are open,

no one will wake you up.

You're fine. 

You're strong, brave and bold,

unless your sleeves are torn,

together with your arms. 

So for now, 

I'm fine

I'm strong, brave and bold,

but sometimes – just sometimes –I'm tempted to undress,

even if it's cold.