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Surface.





We are so accustomed to putting up a front

A display, a facade, an outer shell

So that no one may know

What truly brews

beneath


The waters are calm

The stream is steady

But beneath there are

Creatures that cannot be

foreseen


Why do we do this?

Why do we not say what we mean?


So uneasy to seem weak

Our creatures rustle within us

Suppressed to the very core

But the exterior portrays hard as a

rock


Afraid to infect others

With the vicious disease

We carry our burdens

And hope not for an

outbreak


Until one day the pressure builds up

Stacking, intensifying, rumbling

until it


EXPLODES.



 

(Thumbnail art by Emiliano Ponzi )


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