we think we are mountains of strength, moving with self-assurance between office corridors, head held up high on the street, conviction with which our feet pound the gravel, urban warriors, war-painted, shoulders back and pride in every step.
hold your fingers up to the sun and see your fingertips glow pink. nailbeds orange. our very fibers so translucent, a burning star millions of light-years away can illuminate right through the fragile tissues that make up, you.
so fragile, and yet so self-assured.
does it not make you fearful?
have you no fear?
what makes up your mountain that makes you so?
mountain my heart,
rocks where my soul used to be
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