Scatterbrainy

Philosophy(a) about literature, language and discarded moments from the junkyard of my mind

new skin

At first I see an open wound,
infected and disastrous.
It breathes chaotic catastrophe,
it cries to be renewed.

Its tears are the color of anger,
they dry to form a scab.
To the touch, its stiff and resilient,
underneath, the new skin breathes.
Its all been saved...
with exception for the right parts.
When will we be new skin?

As outwardly cliche as it may seem,
yes, something under the surface says "C'est la vie."
It is a circle, there is a plan,
dead skin will atrophy itself to start again.

Look closely at the open wound,
see past what covers the surface
Underneath chaotic catastrophe,
creation takes stage.

Väldigt bra!!!