/tuck

"say, what don't you like about yourself?
a question raised
wonders cease
at the sharp cut of blade fifteen
deep or superficial
they mold
scarcely untold
changes done
exterior lies
to more damage caused inside

fix flesh
a nip here, a tuck there
talent hands
clay material
aerial torns
disperse in skin
dashes, dots, crops
taking always
never leaving
stealing bits and pieces
lost...

in today's troy
tomorrow's alloy
closed mask
never to grasp
what lies beneath
give youself a treat
no more skin deep
no more flesh surface
but one's heart cornered
in evening ties
in a day honored...

The question is not what but who?
Poor reminder
Daggering turn
Poor excuse of self twist
“Who” before “What” sentences
To confined soul
No surgeon’s hand is hold
For it cannot fix
A never whole…"

V