Mental Armor

Sometimes I wish for a mental shield of armor to outfit my mind's body:

some set of protective covering, strong as steel, to shield my authentic self 

and my authentic feelings and frustrations and frowns

from the cunning jabs or witty punches that seem to fly from the mouths around me.

A shield of armor would encase my emotions, and

protected, I would not feel hurt

after witty jabs or cunning punches or any other articulated attack;

those comments would just bounce off of the steel along with the sun's rays.

 

It seems that with me, unfortunately 

what you see is what you get.

My heart is stitched to my jacket and my thoughts are written in my expression.

There is no coat of armor to guard my feelings or frustrations or frowns:

my mental defenses are porcelain perfect, and

like glass, the beauty breaks readily when tested.

Everytime I wish for a mental shield of armor to outfit my mind's body

I stop myself from reinforcing my defenses.

When I am without armor or a mask or any type of steel filter,

I can smile as brightly as the sun's rays;

I can laugh from my mouth down to my toes;

I can use my eyes to communicate all of my joy with just a crinkle.

In times of jubilation,  a hundred pounds of armor does not weigh me down.

There is no protective covering to hide my authentic self

and my authentic laughter and love and life.

This poem is about: 
Me

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