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i bring myself bare to you
i bring myself bare to you
with my children at my feet
we are not beggars
just vagabonds wandering about this planet earth
i have cleaned their linens
and wiped their blemishes
but i have marred them too much
their flaws are many
i love them even so
i bring myself bare to you
wind whipping our skin
i have stretched our limbs
beyond the bodily limits
but find ourselves pygmy
to every standard
i bring myself bare to you
vulnerable but dignified
not asking you to love us
or regard us with any care
but hoping you will bare with us
it’s all anyone can do
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It's been a while since I last submitted any piece here. So, here's probably one of my last pieces. Every piece is a child of mine as Anne Bradstreet described her work in "The Author to Her Book". This a clone to one that I wrote earlier today but could not remember how I wrote the first version. >.>