Skin-Deep Excavations
They dug into the soft undersides of my arms
Entrenching themselves in the tissue between my skin and bones
Oh how I hated
Those manicured cuticles
Shaped like perfect half-moon crescents
Taunting and cruel, the image of perfection and pain
And dreams built on twisted words
They excavated deep into my arms
And treacherous teardrops,
Briny and tinged with regret,
Stalked down the tip of my nose.
They dug into the soft undersides of my arms
Entrenching themselves in the tissue between my skin and bones
Oh how I hated
Those manicured cuticles
Shaped like perfect half-moon crescents
Taunting and cruel, the image of perfection and pain
And dreams built on twisted words
They excavated deep into my arms
And treacherous teardrops,
Briny and tinged with regret,
Stalked down the tip of my nose.
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