Our bones, made of seemingly soft material
They hide their strength and the weakness
The outline of the skin and sagging flesh that hangs
We nurture
We crave
That perfect tone
How the flesh forms
The only way to appreciate
How can the skin hurt so much?
How does the flesh define us?
Inside lies the bones
Their job; to hold everything inside
To keep it together
Stop it from falling apart
Can it be true?
Can outward complexion define our inner bodies?
When does the sadness the bones hold stop weighing us down?
Bones keep us together
And in the end are the only thing that is left