The Surface

most times,

what we see on the surface fails us.

it betrays us.

and from the day,

from her vagina we are born,

each of us is introduced to a different kind of surface.

that which is in our vicinity,

can sometimes be a reflection of that which those around us,

have molded.

and so,

we grow up into a certain kind of mess,

or a certain kind of arranged chaos.

sometimes,

what’s on the surface isn’t who we really are,

and it doesn’t define us,

and some of us realize this.

most of whom realize they are wallflowers.

we know that we are happier alone,

but we try and make appearances for those we have known in our lifetime.

like wallflowers,

we grow against the wall,

or the cracks of it,

and watch the world from where we stand.

we then come to realize,

that which looks like a fault in our DNA,

really is just what the world labels us,

for that which they don’t understand,

they will label a flaw,

for they will never accept it.

and so in silence,

we keep growing,

and we keep looking on,

and when it’s early spring,

we bloom,

for that which is the surface,

isn’t what is underneath.