Metaphors to hide the Truth

I used to hang my thick skin up in the closet. Letting things wash through me rather than expelling them.

But after many salty rivers running down my cheeks, I have crawled into the wardrobe and hunkered down in the rough hide. 

A hide to hide in.

Shelter. 

I wear my shield proudly. Threats will attempt to penetrate, but my cover dissolves them to nothing.

These attacks

                                 fall

                                              flat.

Sometimes a chink will let one through, but then I’m back. Minor weakness, no collapse.

I wear my thick skin with pride for now… 

waiting until it is safe to come out 

and 

into the bright light. 

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