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Hi everyone my name is Acacia Salisbury
I live in Seattle Washington
I am a spoken word poet, I'm in High School
The first poem I am going to upload and share with you guys is called Skin, hope you guys like it
I am scared
scared to walk out into the world naked
Scared to let you see me for who I am
So instead I shall walk into the world cloaked
in flaws made by my own stitch work, attempting to show off perfection
trying to force my creativity into that of societies
Humanity is
beautiful
because we make our own skin
how thick it all depends
We look at each others handmade work
and sometimes judge too harshly seeing only flaws
and attempts at perfection
But how can one expect humanities
creations
to be one more beautiful than gods
The soul With my words I am dissolving what I thought to be impenetrable skin
In the waters of the words
The skin I built
filled up with holes to allow culture and the world in
much looser than most allowing for the various paints to soak into my pores
Leaving me multi-colored and never bored
So while my skin is like an iceberg on water only 10% of my soul
I hope
The 10% you see is
something much more than a lot teenage girl struggling in her words because this world
hasn't prepared me for such deep
situations ones of the heart nor soul
and this new generation is
tearing me apart pulling at my skin in attempts to correct me
as if there was something to fix
While still trying to keep it intact for the sake of their own securities
and inside my soul has become to comfortable with this false layers
of insecurties calling it protection
and so I am screaming out of fear of the world seeing me naked
how can you tell me that beauty is inside but still force products into my hands?
and me like a child taking Telling me it does not matter the content of my soul if my skin is not beautiful as well
telling me it does not matter the content of my mind if I am not
Suitable fuckable
You tell me to speak my mind but look down on my like a child
cloaked in someone else expectation you
hide me before I can be exposed behind pink blankets and stereo-typical exceptions
and you wonder why by 16 girls feel so oppressed
and hated
The door is closing
Pretty soon there is no room for change, at least that is what I have been taught to believe
Because to be different where I come from is okay
But then we start to question whether to be normal is wrong and the questions isn't of right or wrong
Or what is more Beautiful
Why must I fit into
A collections of boxes as if they define who I am
Why must I search to fit anywhere but the boxes
I am not searching for a place in society
All I am searching for is a place in life
And this skin just got tight
Because any thoughts of begin true to myself results in societies pressure to compress us together
This girl is on fire burning down her skin
Be careful you might want to hide because your facade of a defense might be her next victim
No one behaved ever made history or so they say but I would say
now one who ever stayed in their skin ever changed
because change has to come from within