What Lives Below

Feel like an object judge

not on my appearances.

What each of our skins

display are experiences.

Origin of spiteful hate it

summons ire from eyes

that move up and down

our skin some do despise.

Beneath is solid bone it

is a structure all do share.

So crash into my pride I

now dwell under it there.

Follow me does a frame,

a picture of perfect fades

away I ready myself for

your eye stabbing blades.

Make me real you feel it

without it you’d not know

what scars speak not of

what lives far down below.

Become my new bruise I

need it a tattooed identity.

I’ve crashed into wars I’ve

had inside there are plenty.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Katherine says:

    Nice poem, Jared. People will never know what dwells within. Only us.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Katherine!!

      Liked by 1 person

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