At first I see an open wound infected and disastrous. It breathes chaotic catastophe, it cries to be renewed. Its tears are the color of anger, they dry to form a scab. To the touch, it`s stiff and resilient, underneath, the new skin breaths. As outwardly cliche as it may seem, yes, something under the surface says, "C`est la vie." It is a circle, there is a plan, dead skin will atrophy itself to start again. Look closely at that open wound, see past what covers the surface. Underneath chaotic catastrophe, creation takes the stage. It`s all been saved, with the exception for the right parts. When will we be new skin? It`s all been seen. with the exception for what could be. When will we be new skin? Fallacious congnitions spewed from televisions do mold our decisions. So stop and take a look, and you`ll see what I see now.
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