-This is almost like a follow up to the previous poem called 'masks'. Its main topic being based on my interpretation of what we find when we start to look inside ourselves.

Peel at the surface

and hope to reach the base

of a reality, you used to know

a once so pretty face

Left behind by isolation

and rendered a useless foe

you're marred by imperfection

that you yourself have sewn

Yet you scratch at the surface

digging deeper for the answers

do you even know the question?

As it gnaws at you like cancer

Tearing back the layers

as the creature starts to show

are you scared of your own reflection

as the pain begins to grow

So lost and unattended

as the infection settles in

corrupting from the inside

as your walls are caving in

yet you remove another layer

as the darkness seems to sow

you rip into your being

as you pay back what you owe

The scraps of you left scattered

piling high upon the floor

you keep looking for your sanity

do you even know what for?

What task is oh so daunting

that you keep punishing for more

so that maybe past the surface

is your weak and burdened core

All you really have is nothing

but the mess you have created

and the layers of your life

that leave you feeling jaded.

Yet you pry a little deeper

as the true you finally shows

a monster once so beautiful

is just a useless doe.

-Thoughts? Comments? :D Let me know what you think! Don't forget to ★!-