Burnt tar and wood.
Weeks gone now.
An unhappy aspect,
And you need to be
Tidied Up.
Cut and drilled
Sawn and hammered
And you’re as good
As new.
Painted over with
Brushstrokes of life.
Neat. Tidy. Better.

They cannot see
Your canvas
Is ripped, torn,
Rotten underneath.
Hold the weight
And wait
For the collapse.