My skin does not fully show my stories. My skin absorbs influence and sheds afflictions. My skin grows scales like armor from my enemies. My skin produces feathers, bold and colorful like my culture. / My ancestors whisper to me in red rush under the skin. They are a part of my very bones, rattling in unhinged pride. I am wealthy in dreams but have no money. I am a collector of stories and a spender of hard times. I am a soul with skin. / Skin bruised and scarred. Skin scratched and pulled. Skin healed and new. Skin young and broken. Skin made of stories, and hard times, and dreams. Skin that ceases to be skin. Flesh written.