…
Reset your face. Erase all traces
of the you that’s been you for way
too long. Forget your song: the words,
the refrain, that last strain that kept
you sane through the tumbled storm.
Wish yourself strange, a stranger in
your own skin, a place to center your
self new, map of veins leading some
-where soon, somewhere wonder-
wandered loose from thought, un
-caught and clouded only by indigo
blue. Stain yourself in ink and bright
bold open sky. Swallow rain. Bundle
moon into bite-sized bones. Be known.
..
Prompted by Poetic Asides.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
This tumbles beautifully, easily like a peach down a hill. Gorgeous and defiant.
The beginning stanzas kinda scared me because who would we be if we forget our songs–but then the ending. Aaah!