There’s a Russian Doll on the mantelpiece, resembling folks like me.
Not so much the face and shape – the layers we can’t see.
I doubt we mean to make such skins to cover who we are,
I doubt we mean to hide away the beauty and the scars.
But Russian Dolls are popular, acceptable and safer,
Manufactured by an unseen force known as Peer Pressure.
I’m grateful for the Man who saw no reason for such things,
Who wouldn’t bury truth and kindness beneath those shiny skins.
It cost him well to take such risks, provoked a fierce attack,
He keeps on calling others to peel those layers back.
There are Russian Dolls everywhere; they’re not so hard to see,
And those without the glossy layers are setting others free.
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