beauty is only skin deep.
and maybe if the skin is scarred, there is
no beauty at all.
and maybe the beautiful things die and
there is nothing
nothing
nothing
and i can't hold on to the beautiful things because they've
gone and left me.
not that i ever had them.
i feel like i'm melting
my eyes growing blurry
my mouth screaming slowly
my ears distorting sound
my hands are charred.
i can't write, worthless
and there is no more
just letters, then markings and i can't
comprehend them and i can't
make any more.
effort matters not when there's nothing to
do.
creating, healing is relative.
who cares when it all ends
anyways?
heaven and hell
eternity, man, that's a long time
but live for the moment.
and cover your scars;
for beauty is only skin deep.