Blemishes (vs) Bruising
Hands held by an angel
A need for sympathetic pauses
Cured with pressure
Eliminated with patience
Rising from beneath the skin
Delivered by external forces
We hide them all,
Cover both with cosmetics
These are your imperfections
Those are their imperfections
You look in the mirror and find them
You close your eyes, never to forget them
Beautification to hide them from sight
Photos to document the tragedy
All of your friends have them
Only true friends know about them
Hiding them with hope of contact
Haunting reservations of being touched
Unsightly places to powder over
Ugly reflexes cowering lower
Taking to the sunshine for healing rays
Sunglasses indoors, domestic shades
Onlookers glancing, downward stares
Generous force, descending stairs
Lying, in hopes of beauty sleep
Crying, fearful in battered unrest
An ugly duckling in transition
Constantly taking defensive position
We hesitate to be seen
We shy away from our shame
Yet, layered over, glistening to what they don't know
Behind makeup, shading them from the truth
Accessorized and heading for the ballroom
A small bag in hand, escorted to a shelter
From acne to veins with a ripening of age
The slightest of touch bringing new colors to our rainbow
Knowing our blemishes are blessings from early bible study
To the 12 step recovery of an aging battered vessel
From the white or blackheads rising up from our diet
To the substance and self-infliction of a loathing spirit
Seeking extraction for photogenic vanity
Needing reassurance for the purpose of dignity
One is a battle from expectancy
The greater is the war for existence
The trials of one's frailty, simply a matter of acceptance
Our journey through bruising is a matter of conscience
Behind makeup, shading them from the truth
Accessorized and heading for the ballroom
A small bag in hand, escorted to a shelter
From acne to veins with a ripening of age
The slightest of touch bringing new colors to our rainbow
Knowing our blemishes are blessings from early bible study
To the 12 step recovery of an aging battered vessel
From the white or blackheads rising up from our diet
To the substance and self-infliction of a loathing spirit
Seeking extraction for photogenic vanity
Needing reassurance for the purpose of dignity
One is a battle from expectancy
The greater is the war for existence
The trials of one's frailty, simply a matter of acceptance
Our journey through bruising is a matter of conscience