Of Mythologies


The threads of lies
and truths
are only half seen.
Stitched into
the fabric of who
we seem,
and where they pierce
and hide
in anger or shame,
in doing so
hold us together.
For we are woven
by mythologies
shaping the meaning
of our skin,
and without the blood
red thread of you,
I would be lost
in the Labyrinth
of who I am supposed to be.

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