An analogy of sorts

those of you

who wear the dead skin of another soul

ask yourselves the question

what is now your role

the mortal coil has welcomed

the evil you display

you have your skin

but clearly also want to take away

another’s skin

you feel perhaps

its more beautiful than yours

perhaps yours is dried  and wrinkled

possibly because

you never knew its value

and you destroyed its worth

and now you want to plunder

another from Gods earth

and how did you come by

such a glorious pelt

with underfur to cause a stir

tell us how you felt?

far removed from who was given

it a time before

and trapped in some contraption

on a far off shore

just minding their business

in a place where they were placed

and stumbled into a vile trap

something so debased

so cruel, so vile

so awful

the metal straps

they crushed

the limbs that they were born with

the blood they had then rushed

the agony was terrible

as they struggled to get free

but as they tugged

and kind of mugged

breathing onerously

blood loss was inevitable

and a weakness came about

a few short screams

which no one heard

and then well little doubt

likened to the model

in her Maserati

wearing her designer clothes

feeling  hail and hearty

top down hair in ringlets

dancing in the breeze

breathing in thesalty air

blowing through the trees

getting out closing the door

a pretty hand, forgot

and someone else then closed the door

suddenly she felt hot

the door crashed on her fingers

her frailty became

obvious the agony she felt

clearly  the same

her designer nails were broken

her diamond rings were  bent

her high heels  just a token

of all the dosh she’d spent

could she begin to wonder

where her fur stole was from

she knew it was a top designer

and it cost a bomb

but who had took the hit

so she could wander here and there

with somebody else’s skin

who once was so aware