It’s not there

Every layer used to build the artwork is a layer taken from my armour, in search of contact. They are invisible scars, and yet I know them well. I feel their presence every day, and every day I learn to put them on, like a tight dress, see-through and never the right size. I don’t want to be in this dress, my place is elsewhere, at the source. In the wounds of the soul, unknown and open, wounds that heal but still bleed.