Subterranean

We bury all the good stuff.

Subterranean

On the surface it looks perfect
… from a distance anyway
Perspectives come with permits
Underneath the skin we play
Writhing under layers
Veneers that we swim
From shallow, sallow corners
To the murky depths within
From the surface burrow inward
Through muscle, sinew, bone
Mining into marrow
… it’s better left alone
Yet still we go on digging
The deeper that we draw
Inside we think we’re winning
On the surface never sure
The surface... it looks perfect
Yet hollow underneath
Some scars worn are worth it
And the world… it has sharp teeth