Futurism Grey

Pock marked
Your battle scars
Are etched
Like memories
On your skin

Ink pigments
Tell the story
Of who you are
To those
Who might otherwise
Walk past
Without a second glance

Branded with your ideology
A slogan
On a billboard
Worn as fashion

You've become
Someone else's canvas
Carrying their message
As if your own
Singing from
A stranger's song sheet

Genetic codes
Activate reactions
Bombarded by life
I succumb
To the scaly itchy
Inevitability
Of my humanity

One clean incision
To reach the heart
What beats within
Is now exposed
Be gentle

Lost layers
Of epidermis
Happen so easily
These days
Unlike the playground scrapes
Of the past
Earned only through
Triumphant challenges

Stub exposed
From limb lost
Healing scars
Won't banish
Those phantom feelings

Breaking through
Against the odds
You're a stranger
On the surface
Defiant and relentless
In your purpose

Just one look at him
And you know
What he wants
What he stands for
What he would do to you
Is written
All over his face

Missing words and letters
Read between the lines
Your expression
Is trying to lead me somewhere
What are you trying to tell me?

A brave face
Presence through confidence
It's all a facade
Making a multitude
Of individual indiscretions
Seem uniform and intentional

New ideas won't age
Though the paper
That carries them
Will decay
Causing them
To slowly fade

She's not as young
As she used to be
But this outside appearance
Masks the truth
Of youth
Still glistening inside