There is an orchestra beneath my skin,
An insufferable orchestra,
The kind where the music grates against your ears,
Each note a hideous invasion into your drum.
This is the symphony of pain.

There is something bursting from my skin,
Panicked, beating fists,
Like a ghost beneath a white sheet that’s trying to break free.
I am still alive.
Can you feel me?

There is life in my skin,
Like bubbles floating from the ocean floor to the surface,
A gentle act,
But moving so fast it displaces the world around it.
I hope it doesn’t pop.

There is stiffness to my skin.
Press against it to feel muscles,
Like living concrete, striated,
Making twitching realisations,
That they were made to move.

Skin.
I curiously peel it away,
To reveal a map beneath.
I see the congested pathways,
Sparkling with headlights.
The sound of impatient messages not being sent,
And destinations with no arrival.

Beneath my skin is this world.
Maybe pain has purpose after all.

---

Rania Omar (she/her) is an emerging writer from Western Sydney. Her writing often reflects on her lived experiences of mental illness and disability as well as culture and social commentary. Her aim is to create safe spaces through the written word and tell the untold stories. Rania has published an audio story on the Outloud website as part of the Stories From Here collection. It has been featured on FBI radio, All the best podcast and the Stories From Here podcast with Outloud Arts has also been featured in the Wild Greens Magazine Volume IV, issue iii.

Website: www.raiseitwithrania.com

Instagram: @raiseitwithrania