I don’t have thick skin 

So I must nip my anger at the bud. 

I can’t let it become a hangnail, 

Haphazardly yanked against my say, 

Getting caught at moments 

Where my ire turns me rabid, 

Where I bite and tear at those around me,

Not noticing my own stripping surface. 

Each snag takes more of the rind with it,

Peeling up and over my scowl, 

Down and under my soles, 

Leaving curling ribbons of hide in my wake. 

Unraveling my epidermis 

Until I’m completely unzipped 

Revealing, to my revulsion, the raw me

Pulsating red.

Author Bio: Katrina is currently a sophomore majoring in English Creative Writing. She enjoys writing poetry and short stories. A major theme in her writing is taking my own personal reflections and experiences and attempting to turn them into something greater than herself.

Recollections: Of Being is a literary column brought to you by The Collegian, founded and organized by Aura Peredia. We publish writing and art, either political or personal, to create a bridge between varying valley voices.

For previous installments of Recollections: Of Being, click here.