I Wrap Myself 

I wrap myself 

Adding the layer someone else gave to me 

Tossed it on me to hide; hide what they didn’t like

Did I let them pick up my loose limbs and shove me into something new?

Something to be worn like it was meant for me 

Fitting to my body

One new layer over an older one

Pushing down all that came before it 


Suffocating pressure

Layer after layer

Pushing down on one another 

They become so entwined they can’t be removed 

These layers that were given to me 

To wear like armor

To show the world who I am 

Who they need me to be 


If I try and strip down 

To become what I am underneath 

Will I like what I find,

Can I survive the cold reality?


I unwrap myself

Removing each different layer 

Did I put it on myself? 

Did I pick it up and let it envelop me,

Molding like a glove to my body 

Becoming someone new 

Wearing each layer like it was always part of me. 

Not—something I found along the way,

A forgotten gift,

A misplaced thought.


I drag it with me, all on the ground 

Scattered gift paper from items no one remembers 

Each layer tougher to remove 

Hardening like a shell you have to chip away

I have to go slow or risk it all shattering!

Leaving me naked and raw 


Does it matter if I pick up a new layer to place on myself

Is that any different than having a new layer thrust upon me 

As an unwilling participant 

Managing a delicate balance 

Too heavy and I will falter

Sag against its unyielding weight

Too light and I will be exposed 

Sticky and festering with nothing to protect me 


My core is forgotten somewhere inside 

Layers bleed down 

Corrupting the center 

Melding together 

I wrap and unwrap myself 

Making me who I am 

Till I start and stop no more 

Becoming someone new


Amanda Tingle Taylor
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One thought on “I Wrap Myself 

  1. Dear Amanda. I am moved. Thank-you for expressing this so painfully and beautifully.

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