Beneath the Skin

Beneath my skin lies something else,
Twisted guts conflicted,
Ribboned knots around the neck of those who feel constricted.
Vengeance red amidst the shame,
Run their course and feed a flame.
Through veins more open than me,
Through parts more known than me,
Through people more sacred than me.

Beneath the skin creeps green with envy,
Flowers, weeds and flesh,
The amalgamation of the two is viewed as as something less.
Immolation of the chest,
These sprouts and cinders lay here; a mess.
Making scars more final than me,
Making lungs push harder than me,
Making peers more essential than me.

Beneath the skin runs water and metal,
Quench the steel to harden,
Use whats left to drown the stress and nourish this old garden.
Suffocation, grab the trees,
A nostalgic sense that you might freeze.
Missing scenes more tempered than me,
Missing futures much brighter than me,
Missing moments much bigger than me.

Beneath the skin becomes diluted,
A pallet as pale as ash,
I see black and white, i feel black and white,
But cannot live with either.
These scarlet streaks and baleful blues have all but washed away.