Initial Phase

This body is past
due for an upgrade.

My scales have long ago
hardened to the elements,

yet some things manage to fit
through the cracks in my armor

Does everyone feel
uncomfortable in their

own skin, wary of trusting
others, as if every remark

and glance their way is
a bearing of fangs?

Maybe I just need to shed my skin,
and embrace whoever emerges.

Blue Phase

Blue is not, in fact,
the warmest color.

It is the color of not
having the willpower

to get out of bed
in the morning,

of being in a room full of
people yet feeling alone.

Will I be blue for the rest
of my life span?

Final Phase

(An indeterminate amount of time later)

Molted skin now lays
discarded on the floor.
I have no use for it
anymore.